Time Paradox
by Nicor Warg-Fyrweorm
Summary: In a dimension where Cybertronian are smaller than the average human, they're forced to take organic alt modes while on Earth. During a distraction for the rest of the Decepticons to raid a power plant, Starscream, Ramjet, Ravage and Rumble are forced to take refuge in a cave, but a cave in doesn't just leave them trapped underground, but in a completely different world... (G1/BW)
1. Stranded

"I _told him_ this wouldn't work!" Starscream shrieks, vying to the side to avoid a shot, Ravage carefully held in his talons. "I _told him_!"

"We know! Stop whining already!" Ramjet, carrying Rumble on his back, growls as he pulls up next to the Air Commander, behind his right wing, Thundercracker's position as the Second Wing of the Trine.

But Thundercracker isn't here. And neither is Skywarp, nor the other two Coneheads, or any other Cassette.

They're with Megatron and the rest of the Decepticon army, raiding yet another power plant, while the four of them were supposed to 'distract' the Autobots by attacking a smaller one far away from their real objective.

But, as Starscream pointed out over and over again before Megatron almost slashed his wings and ordered them out nevertheless, is that four Decepticons aren't enough to attract the attention of the whole of the Autobots, more so if two of said Decepticons are Cassettes, and the two others, Seekers.

If only their Trinemates had been allowed to come along, maybe the distraction wouldn't have been as big a failure as it has been.

At least, it would have earned them more attention than just that engineer Medic and the war-built Minibot.

Oh, and Megatron will blame this on Starscream, no doubt.

"I _told_ him." The Seeker hisses under his breath, his mood as dark as the sky and as ready to snap as the charge building in the storm clouds.

Though he's not as far gone in his rage to not notice them.

A quick look up and around, and he knows they won't make it out of the cloud cover before the rain begins.

And, worst of all, the lightning.

They may have organic-looking alt modes, but they're still metallic. Plus, they're flying, which only makes them bigger targets.

If it were only Ramjet and himself, Starscream would have taken further up until they were over the clouds, but there are the Cassettes to take into account.

The Seekers' plumage will keep the water droplets away from joints and the base layer, so the temperatures of their new altitude wouldn't harm them when the liquid forming the clouds froze. It would be a simple matter of ruffling themselves a bit to get rid of the ice if it became annoying. Their intakes are coded to evaporate any liquid and keep their engines working at optimum efficiency, and their optics are also modified to endure them.

But the Cassettes' systems are not.

And Starscream really doesn't want to explain to Soundwave why his creations are damaged due to ice forming in their joints and inner workings, or, worst of all, why they deactivated.

Not that he wants harm to come to the Cassettes, anyway, but that is something better kept in the deepest recesses of his processor.

So, since increasing altitude is out of the question, and keep flying under the cover of the storm is calling for a lightning strike, the Air Commander decides to put Plan C in action.

Meaning, find a refuge to stay in until the storm abates or stops completely.

"Huh, Starscream?" Ramjet calls when the growling of thunder echoes far too loud and close, streams of electricity rushing through the clouds.

"I'm looking. Try to find some cave or burrow or anywhere we could stay hidden in. There's no way we're getting out of this right now." He answers with a growl, still searching for a refuge almost frantically.

"There!" The Seeker turns his head sharply, quickly seeing what the Conehead has, and, without need for anything else, both turn and dive towards what looks like a cave's entrance.

He can hear Rumble squeak at the sudden move and Ravage tenses in his hold, but both Fliers only open their wings to slow their mad descent when they're close enough to confirm it is a cave.

A big one.

They fly inside, Ramjet at the front and ready to 'convince' any previous occupants to leave with his unburdened talons, and find it empty.

Starscream stops midair, but doesn't touch down, even if the Cassette twitches a bit in his hold.

"A cave this big shouldn't be unoccupied." He muses out loud, and the Conehead, also hovering in front of him, turns around. "We need to make sure no other creature is here before we settle down." He orders, and, slowly, he lowers himself to be able to put Ravage on the ground.

The Rusty-Spotted Cat shakes himself and stretches as the Seeker lands next to him, talons scrapping the ground and big optics fixed on the darkness filling what is starting to look more like a tunnel than a cave.

Ramjet touches down not too far, and Rumble quickly jumps off his back.

"You mean we have to go further inside? Why?"

"We don't know how long this storm may go on. Would you rather we stay here and find ourselves attacked by a pack of coyotes, or a bear, and have no place to go?" The Cassette muses that for a bit, most likely thinking of ways they could tear apart whatever beast they found themselves against.

A quick look at the four of them makes the Least Weasel's fur bristle.

Yes, they are sturdier that any animal, and yes, they have weapons.

But their energy gauges are not full, and they will need the power to go back to the _Victory_.

And they are Seekers and Cassettes, some of the weakest, armor-wise, frame types of the Decepticons.

The sturdiest of them is Ramjet, but the Crested Eagle is reinforced with other Seekers in mind, not a bear's thick hide or a coyote's well-placed bite.

No, if they want to stay in one piece, they need to either scare whatever is already inside, or rush to find another shelter while the storm is still brewing.

Without answering, Ravage stalks forwards, ears pricked and whiskers twitching as his darkness-adapted optics scan the cave.

The rest follow, the Seekers own heavily developed visual systems looking around while Rumble sniffs the ground.

"Don't seem anything's been here in a while." The gray-brown Cassette whispers after a bit, carefully staying between the Fliers.

"Do you think there may be another entrance?" Ramjet asks as softly, crest fanning all the way open in an intimidating display meant to hide his own doubt and fear.

Starscream is as high-strung as them, but, fortunately, he doesn't have fur or a crest that rise as a reaction. Not that the rest don't know he's as twitchy, but at least it doesn't show as badly.

"It's a possibility we have to take into account. Perhaps our entrance hasn't been used, but if there are more…"

"So what? We're going to look around until we've mapped every micron of this place?" The Least Weasel snarls with distaste, pulling his head up to glare at the Air Commander.

"Look at it this way. If we don't find anything, at least we'll have passed some time. Besides, Megatron will be more likely not to shred all of us if this place turns out to be a good spot to settle an outpost or a secondary base." He returns calmly, and Ramjet nods in appreciation, even if he's smirking almost mockingly.

They all know that, if their leader is going to punish anyone by how the mission went, it will be no other than his SIC. The rest are practically safe, with the other Seeker and the gray-brown Cassette only having to worry about being given monitor or cleaning duty.

Distasteful, but at least they won't be harmed by it.

Nevertheless, they stay silent. No one wants to hear Starscream's screechy rambles.

And the creepy dark tunnel-cave they're exploring right now is more than enough to distract them.

A loud roar of thunder stops them and makes dirt and pebbles fall from the tall ceiling.

But, when it dies, there's no other sound from further into the darkness, no whimpering of an animal scared by the storm, no growling, not even the squeaking of bats.

Somehow, if the rising fur and feathers and opening wings are any indication, that doesn't reassure any of them.

"Perhaps we should go back to the mouth of the cave. It's obvious there's nothing here." Starscream whispers, trying for nonchalant but sounding creeped.

Nevertheless, the others nod in agreement, with Ravage taking some steps back to be next to his brother and between the two bigger mechs.

And then, no one moves, still staring into the darkness.

Turning their backs to it is _not_ an option.

Before they can do more, though, another roar, louder than before, shakes the cave.

Shrieks and yowls of surprise echo against the walls, but don't drown the crashing growing louder behind them.

A quick look at the path they've come from reveals only a wall of fallen rocks.

Cave in.

They're trapped.

Immediately, Ramjet's fans start to overwork as he squeaks in fear.

Starscream isn't much better, but he's been in similar situations before.

Even if this time there will be no Skyfire to help him clear a path.

But the Conehead doesn't need to know that. He just needs to calm down.

So, the Air Commander opens a wing and whacks the back of the other Seeker's helm with it.

Ramjet stops his little sounds of despair to stare at him with wide optics.

Straightening with a small scowl on his beak, Starscream lifts his wing again.

"Will you calm down?" He doesn't shriek, doesn't shout, he just speaks casually, with his voice down to a somehow soothing rasp. "Yes, that entrance is blocked. So, we keep walking and see if there's another exit, just like what we were doing before. And if there isn't, do you really think Megatron won't come back for us? At the very least, Soundwave will manage to get the Constructicons here to recover his Cassettes. Besides, there's enough space to stretch our wings, see?" He demonstrates by opening his as wide as they go and, a bit tentatively, the Conehead mimics him.

When he gets them open all the way, Ramjet slumps down a bit in relief, his fans turning off and his crest lowering.

"Now, let's keep going." Not having realized the Cassettes have pulled closer to him at the Crested Eagle's distressed act, Starscream stumbles on Rumble and almost falls on his beak.

He scowls and glares down at the sheepishly smiling Least Weasel, but the Conehead's snickers are reason enough not to reprimand him.

So, he just huffs, shakes himself as he straightens, and starts to walk.

The soft clicking of the other Seeker's claws and Rumble's scurrying steps are enough to know they follow, along the dark silent shape quickly pulling up by his side, optics glinting a bit as Ravage returns to looking around.

It's almost a breem later when another small quake shakes the cave, more dust falling, but no indication of rocks about to crash on their helms.

Nevertheless, they all stop and huddle close without thought, the Cassettes pressing against their legs as Starscream feels Ramjet's wing and side against his own.

It takes some nanokliks before silence falls again.

"Is thunder supposed to do that?" Rumble whispers, and the Air Commander can feel him shiver.

"Looks like it." He answers softly, nudging the Least Weasel away before resuming their walk. "Come now. The sooner we find an exit, the better."

Ramjet is quick to go back to the Peregrine Falcon's side, staying close enough that their wings brush against each other from time to time. The Cassettes stay between them this time, brushing against their legs but expertly moving away from their talons when they take a step.

The loudest roar and worst tremor yet stop them with renewed shrieks, almost sending them to the floor—

When the ground caves in.

It's only because of their reflexes that the smallest mechs manage to grab onto the Fliers when they start to flap their wings, even if they use their claws to do so, but none of the Seekers seems to feel the pain in their legs, optics widening as they see the light that has appeared at the end of the tunnel.

With just a quick thought about securing the Rusty-Spotted Cat latched onto a thigh by clasping a talon-ended pede around his dangling lower body, Starscream rushes to the exit, Ramjet close behind.

Dust and pebbles keep falling, accompanied by more dangerous bigger rocks, and the claws digging into his leg tighten their hold as the Seekers take sharp turns to evade them.

But, finally, they fly into open air.

And almost crash into the ground at the sudden environmental readings assaulting them.

The Energon levels are so high that if it wasn't for the isolation their fur or feather-like outer layer gives them, their systems would crash.

There's no way this place is Earth.

Dumbstruck, but managing to keep his flight smooth, Starscream hovers close enough to the ground that Ravage is practically laid down on it.

When the Cassette releases his hold on his leg, the Seeker lands.

And hisses, as he feels the sharp pinpricks the overwhelming levels of ambient Energon are sending up his damaged leg.

The injuries are minor, barely a dot of fluid where the claws have indented the metal, but are more than enough to let him feel the effects of the current atmosphere on the lowest possible degree.

"No one transform! The environmental Energon levels are high enough to deactivate us with enough exposure of our root modes. Our fur and feathers are our only protection against them." He shrieks when Ramjet lands, Rumble falling to the ground with a soft 'oof'.

"I'll say. This hurts like slagging white-red needles!" The Conehead growls, shaking the leg the Least Weasel was clinging to, small dots of pink between some of the scales thanks to the Cassette's claws.

"Where the frag are we?!" The gray-brown mech exclaims after getting up onto his back legs, observing their surroundings with wide optics. "This can't be Earth, right?"

"It's an organic planet, no doubt. But it doesn't look like Earth." The Air Commander muses, looking up at the two differently sized C-like satellites visible on the blue sky. "The air composition is fairly similar to it, though the Energon levels are impossibly high." He adds, trying to ignore the jolts going up and down his damaged leg as he scans their surroundings. "Strange…" Just in case, he plucks up a blade of what looks like green grass and runs his scans on it again, but the results are the same. "This is supposed to be grass. _Earth_ grass."

"I think your scans are shot." Ramjet answers, though his optics are narrowed in confusion. "If this isn't Earth, how could that be Earth grass?"

"Time stamp?" As one, they all turn to Ravage, who simply looks back at them, waiting for their answer.

All three mechs find themselves shocked when they take a look at their chronometers, and a simple look is enough to let them know it's the same for the rest.

Their chronometers are malfunctioning, still counting from the joor down, but signaling an error when it comes to orn to further up time measures.

"Orn?" Rumble asks, and the Seekers and his fellow Cassette only nod in answer. "Frag."

"So, what? We've been shot into another time? That's ridiculous!" The Conehead shouts, looking around before glaring at the Second in Command. "How the frag are we going to get back now?!"

"Not shouting, that's for sure." He snarls back, looking at the cave they've come out of.

The entrance is blocked by too heavy-looking rocks.

No way back through there, since none of them would be able to even make any of them twitch.

This is all Megatron's fault.

* * *

**AN:** Remeber _A Decepticon Raider in King Arthur's Court_, the episode in which Starscream, Ramjet, Ravage and Rumble get thrown into the England of the Dark Ages? Well, since I discovered _Beast Wars_ I couldn't help but think how that episode could have been adapted to get the Decepticons there instead of England. And then, the idea came to me to mix my Beastformers universe with that AU, and this was born. Obvious changes are obvious, but they were needed.


	2. Missing the Present

Soundwave can't recharge.

Correction, he can, there's nothing wrong with his systems.

But he won't.

The Ethiopian Wolf is curled in as tight a ball as possible without crushing his creations.

Laserbeak and Buzzsaw are pressed against his stomach and close to one another, with Ratbat hanging with his helm between theirs, as his smallest Cassette can't enter recharge without grabbing onto something.

His back leg frames them, with his tail covering the Elf Owl and Loggerhead Shrike, the Common Vampire Bat buried as much as possible in his creator's short fur and with a small blanket someone stole from the humans hiding both his and the Communications Officer's frames.

But they're all in deep recharge, having worried themselves to exhaustion long ago.

No, the reason Soundwave himself can't recharge is the Cassette curled against his chest plates, still shaking softly, though no longer whimpering.

The dark reddish-brown Least Weasel is halfway curled into a tiny ball and halfway spread over his creator's chest plates, though his optics are shuttered and he is in recharge.

A dark, restless recharge.

Curling his front paws around the small frame only helps so much, as does the proximity, so Soundwave licks his helm from time to time while keeping his engines to a soft and soothing purr.

Frenzy relaxes a bit at the contact and, despite the awkward position, the Ethiopian Wolf keeps his neck bent to softly nuzzle his Cassette.

He wishes Starscream was here.

All the remaining four Seekers are sharing the Command Trine's quarters, and he knows they are bundled as close as Soundwave and his creations.

They had been returning to the _Victory_ after a failed raid, designated such since they hadn't managed to get as much Energon as they should have if the plan had worked, when the Communications Officer first realized the bonds with Rumble and Ravage were strangely quiet.

They'd gone with Starscream and Ramjet to put in motion Megatron's distraction, despite the SIC's complaints that only the four of them wouldn't be enough to really do anything, and, as usual when working in different tasks, they'd kept the bond to a minimum to not distract the others.

Sure, the TIC had felt their annoyance and even some hints of fear, for they never closed the bond completely, but he'd paid them no mind.

If the situation was dire they would let him know and, besides, Starscream would never let something happen to his Cassettes and, by extension, neither would Ramjet.

The Conehead could be dense, and more 'servos on' than a thinker, but he wasn't stupid enough to disobey the Air Commander, and he was sure the Seeker had made his creations' safety an order.

But, because of the almost closed state of the bond, he hadn't really noticed when he stopped receiving input, busy with the battle and trying to keep Megatron's rage at bay.

They were over the sea when Soundwave decided that they'd been silent long enough.

He opened the bond—and shock made his anti-gravs fail and he was suddenly underwater, his side hurting, cold liquid filling his intakes—

Strong talons grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him up, and he could only clear his intakes with loud coughs, unable to reactivate his anti-gravs as Thundercracker cursed and bodily hauled him to the deck with Skywarp's help, his Cassettes fretting on the side as he finished clearing his intakes.

Hook was there as soon as the purplish-black Seeker made way, growling and looking him over, and Megatron was shouting something, but Soundwave could only shake and stare at nothing as soft whimpers escaped him when he tried the bonds again.

They were still there, but they were empty, the lack of anything coming through them a sign that they were stretched by distance, that the mechs on the other end were too far away to send or receive anything.

Something that couldn't be possible if they were still on Earth.

If they were in recharge, there would have been a low humming. If they were in stasis, there would have been something similar to static.

But there was nothing.

Only the small trickle of his spark's energy that meant the bond was still being maintained, but nothing else.

And then fear and horror and despair filled him as his remaining creations opened their own bonds wide to know what was wrong with him, and noticed their brothers' were silent.

Frenzy's line-rupturing scream was what got him in motion again, pushing past Hook with enough strength to send him into his Gestaltmates as he curled around his Cassettes, none of them caring about the water dripping off his fur as they pressed close to him, the Least Weasel squeaking and whimpering as he grabbed his chest plate so tight that his claws punctured it.

A language he didn't usually hear out of battle filled the air as the Seekers realized the only thing that could put the Communications Officer and his Cassettes in such a state, and tried to contact their Trinemates, only to find the same Soundwave had.

The Constructicons had almost had to sedate them to get them inside, and the TIC's steps had still been wobbly as he carried his creations to their quarters.

They'd all cleaned together in the wash-racks before curling on the berth, and, slowly, one by one, they fell into recharge at Soundwave's assurances that they were with Starscream, and the Air Commander would take care of them.

Minus Frenzy.

The Cassette knew the pain of a bond that shouldn't be gone, but that had been a creator-creation bond, not a twin bond.

And this one wasn't broken. It was silent. It meant anything could be happening to his creations, and they would never know, or would know too late.

It meant they could be deactivated this very moment, and they would only know when their sparks stopped maintaining the bond after a time too short to be the result of the passing of the vorns.

Disuse breaks bonds faster and easier than time ever could.

Frenzy whimpers as Soundwave closes the end of his bond with the Least Weasel to keep the despair and pain away from his creation, so he forces the feelings away and reopens it as fast as he can.

The Cassette nuzzles against his chest plates, but falls silent.

Moving so that the small frame is trapped between his neck and shoulder, the Communications Officer lays his head on the berth.

He wishes Starscream was here, because if he was, his creations would be too.

The Seeker would never allow any harm to come to the Cassettes, and he would do anything possible, and some impossible things, to bring them back, them and Ramjet, but…

There is no assurance the Air Commander isn't deactivated himself.

Pushing the thought away as quickly as it appears, Soundwave forces himself to his previous musings.

Starscream will never allow any harm to come to the TIC's creations, and he will do everything to get them all back to the _Victory_.

He will.

Just like he always recharges with his Trinemates, but when Laserbeak and Buzzsaw are unable to enter recharge against Soundwave's furry hide and the Communications Officer asks him to come, he does.

Concentrating on the memory of the content feeling through all the bonds with his creations and the bigger and warmer feathered creature lying against his side, one wing over the Communications Officer's back and the twins resting there, Ravage pressed against his chest plates and Laserbeak and Buzzsaw under Starscream's puffed out chest feathers with Ratbat hanging from the Seeker's upper chest, Soundwave falls into recharge.

* * *

**AN:** There's a small thing that isn't explained in chapter because I couldn't, so I'll say it here: Only those with wings can fly. The rest have anti-gravs, but they can't fly with them, instead they use them to repel the ground, which allows them to go faster than common animals, or to run on water. Emphasis on run, since if they go too slow their own weight will pull them under, so in order to be able to travel over seas, rivers, lakes and such, they have to run. Which is why Thundercracker was the one to fish Soundwave, since the Constructicons and Megatron would have fallen in had they stopped.

If you have questions, feel free to ask!


	3. Meeting the Natives

Cursing his leader in the sanctity of his processor, Starscream turns back to the strange yet familiar world before them, trying to find something, even the smallest hint, to give them an answer.

And he gets it, the answer to their low energy levels in the form of a yellow and black blur running across the prairie.

Cybertronian processing systems are the most effective ever, able to get energy from almost anything.

Of course, pre-processed Energon is the best choice to fuel them, but, if they came to such a situation, even raw oil could be ingested. It would take longer and be less efficient a power source, but it's possible to process it in their tanks, though it's not the first of their choices.

Except for a few of them. Ratbat seems to love gasoline.

And while organic life-fluids and flesh are one of the weakest energy sources their processing systems can deal with, they are, nevertheless, usable.

Starscream first found out when an expedition went awry and their solar-converter got so heavily damaged that it took him and Skyfire almost five orns to repair it. They wouldn't have lasted enough to do so without energy, though, which is why the Seeker took a leap of faith in that seemingly energy-less organic planet and started to hunt.

Earth's organics are different than those he first encountered, but they are more energetic than the ones he had to force-feed to his exploration partner.

He has tested it.

Both he and his Trinemates have consumed organics on occasion, as have almost all other Decepticons stationed on the mud-ball, but only a few can really hunt them.

And seeing how their potential energy source is quite big, not to say fast, both Cassettes are out of the question.

"Ramjet, have you refueled using organics?" The Conehead startles at the question, following his line of sight.

His crest opens in surprise as he sees what the other Seeker is staring so intently at.

"What? I… no, I've never… I know others have, but there was always some vehicle close by…"

Which means he hasn't hunted either.

_Great._

"Keep an optic on the Cassettes." He says simply, not as much an order with his tone being more annoyed and tired than anything else, and takes off.

He hears Ramjet squeak something, but he doesn't bother trying to understand it, flapping to the needed altitude.

A cheetah, and a fast one at that.

While he would have preferred smaller game, and prey animals rather than predators, Starscream isn't going to let this one escape, more so with his, and he's sure the others' are too, dwindling energy levels, and lack of any other refueling source nearby.

He looks, just in case some rat, or rabbit, or something else is in sight, but finds nothing.

Well, they would have needed at least a couple of rabbits or a rat each. This way, he will only need to hunt once.

He snorts at the 'if I down it' thought flashing through his processor. He's not going to fail and lose his prey.

He never does.

After making sure the cheetah won't change course unexpectedly, and calculating for any move anyway, he presses his wings close to his body and dives.

Exhilaration fueling him, Starscream can almost feel the warmth of the organic's blood coating his talons, feel the snapping of its neck when he falls on it with all the power behind his speed, hear the ripping of flesh as his beak tears it open to get the heart first, and the more energetic blood, before starting to ingest the body.

But then, just as he opens his wings the slightest bit necessary and brings his talons forward, the cheetah looks up.

Its green eyes widen and it jumps in a way that shouldn't have been possible as it seems to open from the middle—

They collide with the deafening clang of metal, the strength of it shaking the Seeker's frame as they roll around before finally managing to untangle despite the way talons have imbedded themselves into plating.

"What the _frag_?!" They both shout in unison, the Peregrine Falcon staring into the optics of the mech wearing the cheetah's outer layer as humans do coats, head resting on his chest plates and legs folded on his back as if they were wings.

Starscream can't even feel satisfied with all the shock numbing his systems when he sees the long gouges his talons have carved on one shoulder plate.

"Whoa, wait, you can _talk_?" The Cheetah shouts, surprise in his freckled faceplate as one servo reaches to cradle the injury. "Are you Cybertronian?"

And then, the Seeker sees the brand.

And doesn't recognize it.

It's neither the Autobots' nor the Decepticons', nor any of the Golden Age caste brands.

Pit, it isn't similar to any of them!

It's not even like those ancient ones that were used prior to the Golden Age, those the oldest of records already identify as old.

And, once more, it doesn't look alike, either.

"Of course I'm Cybertronian! Would any other falcon attack a cheetah?!" He screeches, processor reeling at the dump of new information. "How did you get here? How did _we_ get here?!"

"You don't know?" The other mech questions with a startled look in his freckled faceplate, and Starscream opens his wings menacingly.

"Would I ask if I _knew_?! We just… We just walked out and found ourselves here! And the stupid cave collapsed and now we have no way of… of…" Panic finally being filtered away as his higher function take charge once more, the Peregrine Falcon folds his wings and presses his feathers closer to appear smaller.

To his growing confusion, though, the Cheetah seems… happy? Maybe exhilarated would be a better description.

"Rhinox was right! Shame we didn't manage to get the tower up, but he was right!"

"Huh?"

"And _I_ was right too! I told them I'd seen a shooting star that may have been one of the pods, but they didn't believe me. 'There's no signal on the scans, Cheetor, you are mistaken'. Hah! Take that, Rattrap!" The mech boasts, gesturing exaggeratedly, and the Seeker tilts his head in confusion.

"Pod?" And _that_ seems to catch the younger Cybertronian's attention.

"Wait, you don't remember being in the pod?"

"I just remember a loud crash that made everything shake, and then I was flying for my function as fast as my wings could carry me to avoid being squished under a crashing mountain." He lets out, pieces of the other mech's rant slowly starting to click. "Was I supposed to be in a pod?"

"Aw, man, looks like your memory banks were messed up, like Tigatron's…" The Cheetah mourns, transforming once more into his alt mode. "You're a Maximal, one of the crew members of the exploration ship _Axalon_. We were attacked by a Predacon ship and after a transwarp jump we crashed in this planet. The Predacons crashed too, and now we're in a war against them to stop them from getting enough Energon to start the Great War again."

Starscream stays silent for some nanokliks, processing everything and the situation itself.

Whoever this mech is, he's part of a larger crew of this unidentified 'Maximals', who are enemies of the 'Predacons'—and isn't that the name of one of the possible Gestalt teams they left on Cybertron?—and both groups are stranded in this alternate Earth. He has no idea what a 'transwarp jump' is, or why would the fact he's a Cybertronian with an organic-looking alt mode automatically mean he's a Maximal whose memory banks are damaged, but he can see the advantage in keeping things that way.

Now, there's only one thing that he _needs_ to clear…

"Great War?"

"Boy, we really need to give you some history lessons." The Cheetah whispers as he shakes his head, but he quickly perks up. "The Great War between our ancestors, the Autobots, and the Predacons', the Decepticons. The Predacons are sore that they lost the War and are trying to start the fighting again to try to win this time. That's why we can't let Megatron get the Energon, because with as much as this planet has he'll be able to get the War going."

"Megatron?" He chokes out, so tense that he can't even tremble as his feathers puff out in a mixture of shock, rage and fear.

_The Predacons are sore that they lost the War… between our ancestors, the Autobots, and the Predacons', the Decepticons…_

_The Great War that we know as the _Civil War_, the _Rebellion_… The war we're fighting _now_._

"Yeah, the leader of the Preds. But no need to be afraid, we kick their afts all the time, and I can teach you how to fight. Or even better! We have a Flyer teammate, Airrazor. She has the same beast mode you have, only bigger, and she's awesome. She can teach you all these cool flying tricks, and how to kick aft… even if you can pull some good punches already." The Cheetah explains happily, trying to calm what he believes is a scared fellow Maximal, and chuckling as he looks down at the gouges the Peregrine Falcon's talons have racked on his shoulder. "By the way, I'm Cheetor. What's your name?"

"Starscream."

No sooner has the word slipped past his beak, he wants to shoot himself.

_Idiot! He's from the future, he _knows_ you're a Decepticon!_

And the Maximal does obviously tense, optics widening—before he tilts his head in confusion and… is that amazement?

"Starscream? Like the Decepticon? That's wicked! But… well, he _was_ a good fighter… So, as long as you don't turn out to be a stinky traitor, I guess it's alright."

Before he can stop himself, the Seeker throws himself at the Cheetah, wings wide open and talons first, sharp beak snapping with a high-pitched irate screech.

The Maximal jumps back with a startled yowl, fur standing on end as the Decepticon seethes in place, wings spread menacingly.

"Who are you calling a traitor?! I would never betray my comrades or go back on my word!" He shrieks, forcing his wrath under control as he takes air in sharply to cool his frame. "Never."

"Whoa… Sorry, I guess I deserved that. Remind me not to get you angry again, 'kay?" Cheetor asks with a nervous chuckle, tail still pressed against his hindquarters and ears lowered against his helm. "Say, how about I take you back to the _Axalon_? The others will love to meet you, and I'm sure Rhinox will want to scan you to make sure everything's fine."

Finally calming down, Starscream shakes himself and folds back his wings, studying the relaxing Maximal.

A scan is out of the question, just by seeing the younger mech's transformation he knows their systems are not alike, but—

A shriek makes his helm snap up, his optics immediately spotting Ramjet flying to them, Rumble on his back and Ravage nestled in his talons.

Cheetor observes with his lower jaw almost lying against his chest as the Crested Eagle hovers close to the ground long enough to let the Rusty-Spotted Cat down before landing, a pained grimace on his features and feathers tightly pressed against his frame.

"What's wrong?" He hurriedly asks as he rushes to his side, and the other Seeker lowers his helm to his damaged leg, semi-curled against his stomach, as the two Cassettes stand close by, keeping an optic on the Cheetah.

"This… This ambient Energon is _burning_ me, Starscream… I've got more alert reports than ever before." The Conehead whimpers, and, unlike the Air Commander's own damaged leg, his continues to drip Energon, albeit sluggishly.

"I think I may have ripped something when I grabbed him." Rumble mutters softly, huddling against his brother, and the Decepticon SIC curses in his processor.

His damage are clean punctures, easy to isolate and fix, but if Ramjet's are more like scratches and have managed to damage something under the scales…

"Where's the ship?" He half-orders half-pleads as he turns to Cheetor, and the Maximal straightens.

"Over a canyon not too far from here. Can he fly or should I carry him? I can call—"

"I can fly." The Conehead growls, crest fanning open menacingly at the insult to his capabilities.

"Show the way."

"Who is that furball?" Rumble asks with a grimace, receiving a glare from the Cheetah.

"To sum it up, we were in pods before the whole crashing and the avalanche. This is one of our crewmates, another Maximal, and we're at war with some psychos who're trying to restart a war. That enough for you?" Starscream explains, and both the other Flier and the Cassettes have enough sense to realize it's better to go along. "The reason we don't remember anything before the crash is because it damaged our memory banks. We'll get filled in the details when we're back in the ship."

"Well, let's get going then!" Rumble exclaims as he jumps on the Peregrine Falcon's back, Ravage nuzzling against his talons. "Get going, pussy cat! We have a ship to get to!"

"Who're you calling pussy cat, you furry bug." Cheetor protests, snarling.

"The name's _Rumble_!"

"Enough, both of you!" Starscream snaps, flapping off the ground to carefully grab the Rusty-Spotted Cat in his talons. "Cheetor, if you please?" He asks with poisonous sweetness, and, without another word, the Maximal starts running.

Ramjet takes off with some difficulty, grimacing, but he stays airborne easily, the warm currents helping them both fly after the black-spotted yellow streak, despite their damage and the weight they're carrying, respectively.

Ravage nuzzles against Starscream's belly, and the Seeker knows exactly what he's asking.

He just holds him close, talons gentle but firm in their hold, and the soft vibrations of purring are easily carried up his legs.

Rumble's claws clench tightly around his back feathers, the Least Weasel's body pressing tightly against his as he slithers closer to his helm.

"I can't feel my brothers or Carrier." The Cassette whispers, and Starscream manages to keep his pained grimace to a slight narrowing of his optics.

"They will be fine. And I promise I'll get you back to them. All of you." Ramjet tilts his head to meet his optics with worry, but only determination burns brightly in the Air Commander's own, so the Conehead relaxes, flapping maybe a bit closer to the Decepticon SIC than any flight formation allows.

He doesn't care about that.

Comfort is not something he's used to sharing, but if a promise and his close proximity do the trick, then he won't push them away, metaphorically or literally.

And, after all, he _is_ the Air Commander and Second in Command.

It's only expected that they look up to him and expect him to be better than them, so why wouldn't they want to be closer to him?

Hanging to that thought to smother his own worries and fears, Starscream turns his attention to their surroundings.

And there, shining brightly under the sun, is the spaceship.

It is stationed on a couple of big and flat rock spires standing tall in the middle of a canyon, while also lying against one of its walls. It really looks more like it crashed there instead of landing naturally.

"There she is!" Cheetor exclaims after a moment, when his ground-bound form and less powerful optics find the craft. "Guys, welcome to the _Axalon_."

Once they are close enough, they manage to see that, despite the crash, some of its lading pads are intact and functioning, keeping the belly high enough for the elevators on it to be of use.

"Hey, you need to land here!" The Maximal calls, stopping a quite exaggerated distance away, but, wary of any kind of defenses, they obey.

When they are all on the ground, with a proud-looking Cheetah in front of them, the black-spotted mech turns to the ship.

"Sentinel, stand down!"

Fortunately, the feline isn't looking at them, and so he doesn't see them tense and exchange some nervous looks while Starscream glares at them to calm down.

That may have been the designation of the Prime before Optimus, but it's also a word that means 'guardian', so taking into account it has been called out instead of using a comm line, it's safe to assume it's an automated defense system instead of a mech.

Besides, Megatron made sure the Prime was very much deactivated.

As expected, a force field makes itself visible around the ship before vanishing, and, when the Cheetah walks towards the craft and its lowering elevator, the others follow, Ramjet leaning against Starscream as he hops along.

The walk isn't excessively long, and, despite their pace, they are onboard the platform and rising to the inside of the ship soon enough.

When the lift stops, they can't help but look around curiously—before they huddle close together, the damaged Seeker and the Cassettes behind Starscream as a huge green and brown mech approaches them.

"Cheetor, what's this?"

"They're Maximals!" The Cheetah answers happily as he trots to the unknown mech's side. "Their pods crashed and got destroyed in an avalanche, and their memory banks are damaged, but they're friendly. Well, as long as you don't piss that guy off, but I kind of deserved being chewed off. Oh, and that one is hurt."

"Come out then. Let's get you into a CR Chamber." The green and brown newcomer says calmly, gesturing towards some kind of pods. "I'm Rhinox, the main technician around here. What are your names?" He asks as they slowly step off the lift, observing him open one of the 'CR Chambers' with a push of a button.

"You're gonna laugh, big guy." Cheetor adds with a snicker, attracting a confused look from Rhinox before he faces them.

"As long as he doesn't start insulting." The Air Commander answers as he ruffles himself, straightening and meeting the large Maximal's optics. "I'm Starscream."

"Starscream? Like the Decepticon?"

"That's just what I said!" The Cheetah exclaims, laughing.

"No, Starscream like myself. I'm not a traitor." The Seeker hisses, and the feline chokes on his mirth as he lowers himself to the ground.

"Hey, I already said I was sorry."

"And the others?" Rhinox asks, taking their attention away from the obvious sore point.

"That's Ramjet, and these two are Rumble and Ravage." The Decepticon SIC answers, more calm, as he gestures with one wing.

"Well, Ramjet. Come on in, the Chamber will take care of your injuries."

"Uh, actually, it's fine. It was all that ambient Energon that messed with my self-repair. It's working now." The Conehead explains with a tremulous smile, looking dubiously at the pod-like contraption.

Big, but most likely not big enough to spread their wings wide open. And who knows what it will actually do.

"Are you sure?" The large Maximal asks, a searching expression on his faceplate, and the Crested Eagle nods eagerly. "Alright. If there's any problem, just let me know."

"Will do."

"Well, I better go find the Boss Bot and the others." The Cheetah calls happily, turning towards the corridor that will lead him deeper inside the ship before running away.

"So, your memory banks are damaged. What did Cheetor explain?" Rhinox asks calmly, leaning against the round table in the middle of the room.

"That we're part of the crew of an exploration vessel that was attacked by Predacons and crashed in this world along the Predacons themselves. And that we're fighting to stop them from getting the Energon they need to start a war." Starscream sums up calmly, not making a move to push Ramjet away from where he's still leaning against his side.

"That's pretty much it. Although he forgot to mention that we're stranded here until the Maximal Council sends someone for us."

"Is that a big deal?" Rumble asks, scratching his helm as he sits on his hindquarters. "There's Energon to harvest, we have a ship and compatible alt modes, and no matter who those Predacons are, we can still kick their tailpipes, ain't that right?" His smirk is full of sharp teeth as he looks up at the Air Commander, who snorts in answer.

"Don't be cocky, short stuff. We still need to actually know _who_ those Predacons are and what are they capable of. Although if their leader is calling himself _Megatron_, they'll be easy pickings." The other three Decepticons tense, and Starscream almost slams his helm to the ground as he realizes his idiocy.

"Cheetor said that too?" Rhinox asks, carefully observing his companions' reactions.

"Sounds… ominous." The Least Weasel manages, with his brother and the other Seeker nodding in agreement.

"I think it sounds silly." The Second in Command returns with a scowl, though he inwardly relaxes when he sees the Maximal's curiosity sated by those simple words.

"You're just making up for your designation, _Screamer_." Unfortunately, Rumble is swift enough to avoid his peck, so, with Ramjet still leaning against him, the Peregrine Falcon settles for glaring.

"Come on, guys!" Cheetor shouts as he rushes back into the room, making the Decepticons jump.

"Where's the fire, Spots? It isn't as if the new guys will go anywhere." A heavily accented voice calls before a gray and copper mech about a head taller than the Seekers calmly walks inside, the same bright red optics than the larger Maximal and with abnormally large front denta that remind them of organic rodents.

"Rattrap is right, Cheetor. No need to go rushing around." Another adds as the last two crewmembers walk inside, one of them almost as big as Rhinox, with stripped armor in two shades of brown, blue faceplate and detailing and golden rib-like armor and shoulder guards, while the other has gray and blue armor with red detailing and black fur covering part of it.

The faceplate of that last one almost makes them tense again, if it wasn't for the fact the red optics and visible mouth make it clear that, despite the similarities, he is _not_ Optimus Prime.

"Hey, look at that! More Fliers!" The first one, Rattrap, if his guess is right, exclaims with a smile as he finally sees them, before confusion replaces it. "And what are those two, some kind of pet?"

"Who are you calling pet, garbage breath!" Rumble exclaims, bristling, as he rushes to be in front of the larger mech, straightening as much as he can with his teeth bared.

"I like that one." The brown-stripped one adds with a sharp smile, receiving a glare from the smaller Maximal.

"Shut yer trap, Scale-belly. No one asked your opinion."

"Rattrap, Dinobot, could you _please_ save your arguments for later?" The Prime-lookalike asks tiredly, as if that isn't the first, second or tenth time he's asked that.

When the other two stay quiet, though, he gives each a small thankful smile before turning to the Decepticons.

"Welcome back to the _Axalon_, my friends. I'm Optimus Primal, and these are Dinobot, Rattrap, Cheetor and Rhinox, some of my crew of Maximals. Our other two companions, Airrazor and Tigatron, are out patrolling, but you'll meet them soon enough." The obvious leader explains, gesturing first to the brown-stripped mech, and then to the other three, confirming the Air Commander's suspicions of the copper mech's identity.

"We're glad to be here. These are Ramjet, Rumble and Ravage, and I'm Starscream."

"Starscream? Like the—"

"Enough with the Decepticons!" He screeches, fluffing his feathers to appear larger almost as soon as Rattrap opens his mouth, and Cheetor quickly explains that they have all asked him the same before.

However, the Decepticon SIC doesn't miss the split nanoklik of surprise on the Maximal Commander's faceplate at the Rusty-Spotted Cat's designation. He calms down soon enough, though, so the Seeker relaxes.

If there's already an Optimus and a Megatron, being designated after other 'ancestors' may not be too strange, even if a Maximal shouldn't carry a Decepticons' name.

Nevertheless, none of them say anything, so the Peregrine Falcon chalks it as a small victory and lets it go.

"Very well. Would you like to choose your rooms or would you like to refuel first?" Primal asks, and all four perk up at those words.

"Refueling, please." The Air Commander manages, and the Maximal gestures down the corridor as he starts to walk.

"Cheetor, Maximize!" Four helms turn around at that, watching the Cheetah get back to root mode.

"Maximize?"

"Yeah, it's our activation code. You should have it installed too, so you can transform to robot mode too."

_Robot… mode… Is he _joking_?! And _activation codes_?! How did that _happen_?!_

Lost in his reverie, and he believes the other three are so too, none of the Decepticons move.

"Uh, guys? Is there something wrong?"

"Ah, no, no. Just… We didn't know about those… codes." He manages, exchanging some looks with the other Seeker and the Cassettes.

Should they transform and reveal the obvious differences between Maximals and Decepticons, as well as the fact Ravage has no 'robot' mode? Or should they stay as they are and claim a malfunction of their 'activation codes' and risk the use of those CR Chambers or Primus knows what else?

"You don't have to transform if you're more comfortable in your beast modes." Optimus answers when they remain as they are, interpreting their uneasiness as some kind of politeness code or whatever.

Nevertheless, they all relax before nodding and following down the corridor.

Cheetor and Rhinox stay in the bridge, revising something before the Cheetah goes back to patrol, while the other two follow them while bickering among themselves.

Judging by Rumble's attentiveness, the Least Weasel is taking notes.

Starscream can only smile and shake his helm softly while Ravage lowers his ears, knowing he and his brothers will be the ones to deal with it once they get back to their own time.

Ramjet looks mildly curious, but also a bit disturbed. Taking into account he hasn't been on Earth as long as the rest, the Seeker can't blame him for that, not with certain insults flying by.

One, however, catches his attention.

"Pred?" He repeats, turning to Rattrap, who reboots his optics in surprise and confusion. "You called him a 'stinky Pred'."

"'Cause he _is_ a stinky Pred."

"As in 'Predacon'."

"Yup."

"Dinobot left the Predacons after we crashed here." Optimus explains, though said mech scowls.

"And the first thing he did was come here to fight for leadership. The nerve."

"Why settle for anything less?" Ramjet asks, as confused as the rest of Decepticons, and the small Maximal's jaw falls open while the former Predacon looks at them in surprise.

"What, you thought he should've come begging for you to let him in?" Rumble adds mockingly, Ravage snorting in agreement.

"I really do like them." Dinobot comments with a lopsided smile.

"What, you're going to tell me you agree with him?" Rattrap asks, gesturing to the larger mech.

"Obviously." Starscream answers this time, the others nodding in agreement. "To ask for anything else than leadership would have been demeaning and a complete insult to Dinobot's abilities."

"You're nuts!"

"Mech, we're _Cybertronian_." The Least Weasel stresses, carefully pronouncing each syllable.

Optimus is obviously trying to be quiet, but he's shaking too much with laughter to be subtle, which earns him a glare from Rattrap.

"Great, the new Maximals are on Chopperface's side and Big Banana is laughing at me. What's next?"

"That's the accursed question, ain't it?" Ramjet asks with a snicker, and the rest of Decepticons nod as the copper mech groans.

Perhaps this won't be as bad after all.

* * *

**AN:** This chapter is here thanks to **EclipseSeeker**, who not only gave me the ideas, but the headache to write them. Also, somehow, the main two ideas have combined into a single timeline. The third, in which the Decepticons confused the Maximals with Autobots, was, unfortunately, not going to happen because I have no idea how I could have managed to do it.

By the by, this happens before the end of season 1, but after _Possession_ (the chapter where Starscream's ghost possesses Waspinator). It's between _Law of the Jungle_ (Tigatron loses his friend tiger and almost leaves the Maximals) and _Before the Storm_ (where Predacons and Maximals agree to a 'truce' after Megatron gets the second Golden Disk).


	4. A Truce with Time

Airrazor is more than a bit excited when she's told they've found not only one, but four new Maximals, but especially when they reveal two of them are Fliers, one even sharing her beast mode.

So, when Rhinox asks her to come to the _Axalon_ she's more than happy to accept.

However, what she didn't really expect is for the new arrivals to be so… small.

In fact, they're the same size as the creatures whose beast modes they've taken.

"Hi there. I'm Airrazor." The pale eagle snaps his beak shut at her voice, earning a dry glare from the Peregrine Falcon. "Nice to meet you."

Snickering makes her look down at the two slightly behind the smaller Flier, both looking amused at the Crested Eagle's expense, if their mocking looks and the glare being returned are any clue.

"I'm Rumble." The Weasel answers, walking up to her with a wide smile full of sharp teeth. "That's Ravage." He points to the Cat, who nods politely, a gesture she mimics. "This one is Ramjet, and the serious one is Screamer."

"_Starscream_, not Screamer, you furry worm." The Peregrine Falcon hisses, though he keeps an eye on her.

Fortunately, Airrazor has been told of their names beforehand, so she just smiles.

"Starscream then. Would you guys like to go for a flight?"

"Yes!" The Crested Eagle almost squeaks, and she has the feeling that if he had a dog beast mode, his tail would be wagging madly.

The Weasel almost falls over in his laughter, the other mammalian snickering audibly while the Falcon hides his bowed head behind a wing.

The femme has to laugh.

Such enthusiasm is so _cute_.

"Shall we?" She asks, gesturing to the elevator, and the white Flier almost skips to it.

"What are you two going to do?" Starscream asks the smaller Maximals, who exchange a look with pensive faces.

"Hey, can we go outside? See them make fools of themselves and get to know our surroundings?" Rumble asks Rhinox, who has been sitting by the monitor.

"I don't see why not."

"We're gonna do that."

The Falcon just nods before walking to join his fellow Flier in the elevator, and the other three join them before it descends.

Once outside, Airrazor changes to her alt mode.

"Let's see what can you do, alright?" She asks, and receives two positively feral smirks in answer before they all take flight.

They're graceful and secure, that much she can tell as they glide in widening circles over the _Axalon_, almost as if they had been flying for longer than a day.

Yet again, if what she's been told is accurate, their memories are scrambled, meaning their beast modes' instincts can take hold easier than in an undamaged mech, resulting in two winged Tigatrons.

"Not bad." She calls over the distance, and can see the Crested Eagle preen while the other Peregrine Falcon gives her a deadpanned look. "What else?"

The smaller Flier lets himself be carried to the canyon—and dives.

Amazed, Airrazor watches the speed, the precision, as the bluish-gray blur descends almost too close to the rocky walls, avoiding ledges and stray formations with ease before opening his wings just before he literally dives underwater, using his accumulated speed and some strong flaps to reach their height again.

"You were saying?" He asks cockily once he's by their side, and his smirk is almost mocking.

"Showoff." Ramjet mutters, giving the other a tired glare, and the femme has to laugh.

"Impressive. You have both adapted really well to your beast modes."

"Of course." The Peregrine Falcon scoffs, as if there was no other possibility.

"_Airrazor, we just got a call from Tigatron about an alien anomaly. Could you check it out?_" Rhinox calls through the comm, and she narrows her eyes.

"What kind of anomaly?" She can feel the other two Fliers attentively observing her, but decides to wait until she has more information about her mission to inform them.

"_Some kind of energy pulse. Perhaps another flare. We have the general coordinates, but nothing too specific. I'm afraid you'll have to search a bit first._"

"I'm taking the new Fliers with me."

"_What?_" Both Rhinox and the other two Maximals exclaim, one out of surprise and the others in confusion.

"They could use the chance, and there are little things tamer than a recon mission."

"_But what if the Predacons show up?_"

"Then, we'll make them wish they hadn't."

"_Airrazor, this is Optimus. Are you sure they can deal with this?_"

"If we need to search for the anomaly it'll be easier if we're three. Recon isn't too taxing, and they are good fliers. If there's something they can't handle, they can get away."

"_Very well. Tigatron is still in the area, so keep in contact with him._"

"Will do. Airrazor out." With a smile on her beak, she turns to look at the other two, the Peregrine Falcon at her left with the Crested Eagle at his. "We have work to do."

"Recon? What are we looking for?"

"An alien energy signature. We're not really sure if those aliens are hostiles or if we're just lucky to keep tripping over their defenses, but stay alert." They nod, so she sets the course and increases her speed slightly. "How good are you at tracking?"

"The best." Starscream answers, voice once more dripping with certainty.

Well, if he's as good as half his flying skills, they should be more than good enough.

They spread apart when they reach the coordinates, far enough that they can still see each other, just in case she's trusting their abilities too much, and slow down to carefully look around.

After about half an hour, she contacts the rest of Maximals.

"Airrazor to _Axalon_."

"Axalon_ here, Fly-girl. Found something?_" Rattrap's voice answers her, and she shakes her head with a tired sigh.

"Nothing at all. It seems like—"

"Down!" Before she can react to the screech, something heavy falls on her back plummeting her for a scary three seconds before it vanishes, letting her regain her balance.

"_Airrazor! What happened?!_"

"I—Ramjet? Why did you—?" But he's not listening to her, already flapping away to follow some kind of light trail that seems to be at about the same altitude she had been flying before being pushed out of the way. "I'll call later, looks like we found something!" She rushes after the Crested Eagle, quickly catching up to him as she sees a gray blur dive to a bend in the canyon they're now in.

When they round the corner, they find Starscream hovering in midair, a holo-projection of Megatron's head glaring down at him.

"_And who would _you_ be?_"

"I should be the one asking that." The smaller Peregrine Falcon hisses, as high and mighty as before.

"Megatron, what do you want." Airrazor calls, flying to be next to the other Flier.

"_That_ is Megatron?" Ramjet squeaks at her back, but she doesn't look away from the Predacon.

"_Ah, my dear Airrazor. I wasn't aware you had new comrades._"

"I doubt that's the reason you're contacting us now."

"_No, it is not. I would like to discuss something with Optimus. In a neutral location and… alone._"

"Do you really think he would agree to that?"

"_Ah, but what I want to discuss is a _truce_._"

"I'll let him know."

"_Thank you, my dear._"

And the hologram vanishes, the parts of the projector sphere clicking back together before zooming away.

"You're not believing that, are you?" Starscream asks dryly, and she shakes her head.

"Of course not. There's something fishy in all this. But for now, the best we can do is go back to the ship."

* * *

"I cannot believe you agreed to this!" Dinobot exclaims, but the Decepticons feel more resigned than indignant.

After all it is so Autobot, and consequently so Maximal, that they can just watch the proceedings in detached amusement, as if it was a movie.

"I'm a Maximal. I have to give peace a chance, no matter how unlikely it seems." Starscream groans softly at that while Ramjet snickers silently, Rumble munching calmly on his Energon treat while Ravage appears bored, optics half-shuttered and head resting on his paws.

"Do you think it may have something to do with that alien energy anomaly?" Rhinox asks, and this time all four Decepticons are more attentive, even if they don't show it on the outside.

Could it be the reason they are here, in this bizarre Earth? Or maybe a method to reverse things?

Airrazor leans against the table by their side, and even though they become suddenly aware of her presence, they don't look away from the discussing Maximals.

"Looks like you won't have a moment of peace."

"Peace is overrated." Ramjet answers, the rest nodding almost absentmindedly.

"But it can be nice."

"Would be boring." Rumble answers that time, finishing his treat.

"The Vermin is right. Megatron will surely anticipate this move." Dinobot rumbles, and Starscream perks up, tuning out the Cassette and his fellow Seeker's conversation with the femme Flier.

Optimus is smiling.

An obvious _I've got a plan_ smile.

And if it's anything like what the Air Commander himself is thinking…

"So? Let him."

It _is_.

The rest of Maximals exchange confused looks, but when he looks down at Ravage, the Rust-Spotted Cat returns his gaze with the same determination.

Talk about good luck.

"If I may." He calls when the Gorilla turns around to explain himself to his subordinates, straightening when all optics fall on him. "I suggest Ravage and Rumble take care of this mission."

"What?"

"Megatron knows about Ramjet and I, but he has no idea they exist. And if he has all of you—of us accounted for, he may relax his internal defenses. Besides, they are practically _made_ for infiltration."

"Bring it on." The Least Weasel adds with a sharp grin, his confusion having cleared at the Seeker's last word. "At last something interesting!"

Ravage stretches before sitting up, purring, half-shuttered optics gleaming with confidence.

"They don't know anything about the _Darksyde_."

"Which will make us be more alert, even in areas others would have lowered their guard because of previous knowledge. A spy can't afford to be _comfortable_." The black and silver Cassette answers seriously, and the Maximals startle at hearing him talk.

"The kitty has a point there." Rattrap reluctantly agrees, and Starscream has to fight to keep his expectation hidden under his smug grin.

The Predacon's database is finally in their reach.

* * *

When Optimus' communiqué that their infiltration mission has failed reaches them, Starscream nods in his processor.

All is going according to the plan.

Cheetor, running below his and Ramjet's shadows, seems to increase his pace almost happily.

To fool the Predacons, they need to appear uncomfortable with the lack of knowledge, and seeking to find any way to obtain it.

Which is why the three of them are patrolling almost inside the northern part of the enemy territory.

It also serves the purpose of letting the new 'Maximals' get used to patrols and recognizing the borders of the sectors.

Ramjet squeaks, and when the Air Commander whirls around to see what has startled him, he almost does too.

That is one fragging _big_ ant.

"Cheetor!" He calls, and the Grounder stops and quickly locates the obvious Predacon approaching them.

A screech makes both birds look up, easily locating the red Pterosaur on the ant's trail, and recognizing it as yet another Cybertronian.

"Inferno and Terrosaur. Hope you don't mind us visiting. I have to teach the newbies the ropes." The Cheetah calmly explains, and the insect's antennae flicker with annoyance.

"You will leave the territory of the Colony, Maximal!"

"After all, we wouldn't like to have to break the truce. _Especially_ in front of the babies." The Pterosaur adds mockingly, looking at the other two Fliers.

"Watch it, flying lizard, or _we_ will be the ones to do something you won't like." Ramjet hisses, crest fanning open menacingly.

"Enemies of the Colony! You will burn before you bring it harm!" The ant shouts, and Cheetor is quick to take a step back.

"Hey, truce, remember?" He exclaims, and it takes an obvious effort for the ground-bound Predacon to take a step back himself.

"As if a couple of chicks would make a difference against me, the mighty Terrosaur."

"Don't you _dare_." Starscream snarls, and Ramjet's mocking look directed at the Peregrine Falcon immediately vanishes under a nervous smile.

"I wasn't going to say anything?"

"Of course you weren't."

"You would do better joining the Predacons than staying with those pathetic Maximals. Megatron may be a fool, but when _I_ lead—"

"Don't insult the Royalty!"

Cheetor snorts at Terrosaur's words, but Starscream _considers_ them.

The Predacons are supposed to be the descendants of the Decepticons, while the Maximals are the Autobots', goody two-shoes with a fondness for fleshlings and playing nice and accepting obviously fake truces.

But Dinobot _is_ a Predacon, a true Decepticon descendant. And he _left_ Megatron.

Besides, they have already tricked Optimus Primal and his crew, and the Cassettes are going to bring them any necessary information about the other faction.

And he doesn't think he'd be able to be in the same room as Terrosaur for more than half a joor.

Starscream is not _that_ insufferable, is he?

"I'd say 'nice try', but that was pitiful at best." He spits instead, and smirks when the Pterosaur's face distorts in anger. "Even if we weren't Maximals, there's no chance we would stoop as low as to join you. Oh, and when the truce is over, I will teach you who is the real _chick_." He adds, beak snapping with a sound sharp enough to make the larger Flier flinch. "I am Starscream, remember my—"

"_Starscream_?!" The Predacon screeches, flapping away from them with such suddenness that both Decepticons pull away in surprise. "Not again! How did you manage to get that ghost back?!" He adds, glaring down at Cheetor.

"Ghost?"

"He's not _that_ Starscream! This one is a Maximal, not a backstabbing undead freak!"

"Undead…?"

"Yeah, right! You know he can possess other mechs, don't you? Remember _Waspinator_? He took over his body and tried to take over the Predacons!"

"Took over…"

"Starscream?" Ramjet whispers, more than a little freaked out when the Air Commander sways in midair, flapping wings uncoordinated.

Oh, right… he hasn't told them the Maximals and Predacons are from the future, has he…

"He's gone."

"How would you know that? He has an immortal spark!"

His wings fail him, not flapping anymore, and why aren't they—

"Starscream!"

The impact with the ground is harsh, but he was low enough that it does nothing more than to bruise his armor.

"What the—"

"Starscream! Starscream, answer me!"

"I… I'm not… I'm not…" He mutters, curling into himself, optics wide but unseeing.

"Star—"

_"The Great War between our ancestors, the Autobots, and the Predacons', the Decepticons. The Predacons are sore that they lost the War and are trying to start the fighting again to try to win this time."_

_…_

_"You were worried back then."_

_"We're Trine."_

_"I didn't think you cared."_

_"I didn't want to."_

_"You're not going to lose us, Starscream. Not unless you are the one that decides to leave."_

_"I will never leave you, Thundercracker."_

_…_

_"Don't… please don't leave me…"_

_"I won't, I won't, I promise I'll never leave you, but you can't leave me now, understand? Look at me, TC is about to come with the Medic, so look at me—"_

_"But you're an ugly fragger, Screamer…"_

_"Yes, and imagine the horror it'll be if I am your last sight, so stay awake, Warp, stay awake…"_

_…_

_"Last planet and next stop: Cybertron!"_

_"You're awfully grumpy."_

_"Would you want to go back? With all the rationing and the growing dissent? Space is more peaceful."_

_"But that's precisely why we're here, to find the Energon to stop the shortage."_

_"As if just the two of us could manage that."_

_"Now, who is the one that's always saying they're the best Energon Seeker ever?"_

_"You can't turn my words against me!"_

_"I believe I just did."_

_"Skyfire!"_

_"Come on, Starscream, let's get this over with. And then, we'll go back home together."_

_"Home. Heh. Sure thing. Just try to not stay behind this time."_

"—scream!"

"Ramjet?"

"Yes? Are you alright? Why did you—"

"I'm not him."

"Him? Him who?"

"Starscream! Are you alright?!" Cheetor exclaims, stopping at his side as he slowly gets back to his pedes, whole frame trembling harshly with his feathers puffed out.

"I'm not _him_."

"Starscream…?"

"I am _not_ a backstabbing traitor!" He screeches, whirling around with wings wide open to glare the Pterosaur to deactivation. "I am _not_!"

"Let's go." The Cheetah whispers, nuzzling them away, and though he's now cursing him in his processor, some tiny part of the Peregrine Falcon knows it's the right choice, because they have a truce, no matter how much of a charade it is, and ripping the Predacons to pieces would most certainly break it.

He can hear the Pterosaur crowing something, tone mocking, but he doesn't bother understanding the words.

He'll get his revenge for those insults, of course he will. Once Ravage and Rumble have the data—

Ravage and Rumble.

_"I can't feel my brothers or Carrier."_

_"They will be fine. And I promise I'll get you back to them. All of you."_

_…_

_"_Starscream_?! Not again! How did you manage to get that ghost back?!"_

_"He's not that Starscream! This one is a Maximal, not a backstabbing undead freak!"_

_"Yeah, right! You know he can possess other mechs, don't you? Remember _Waspinator_? He took over his body and tried to take over the Predacons!"_

_"He's gone."_

_"How would you know that? He has an immortal spark!"_

His steps stop and Ramjet is suddenly at his side again.

"Starscream? You're seriously starting to freak me out here."

"I'm… I'm not…"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Does it look like I _know_?"

"I'm not a traitor… I'm… I'm not…"

_"The Great War between our ancestors, the Autobots, and the Predacons', the Decepticons. The Predacons are sore that they lost the War and are trying to start the fighting again to try to win this time."_

"… am I?"

"Looks like he's having a nightmare…"

"Or reliving a memory."

"A memory? Of what?"

"Something not good. We have to get him back to the ship."

"Help me get him on my back."

A warm feathered body pushes him softly, forcing him to step on strong muscle covered by a furry skin, and when the ground moves he clenches the body tightly with his talons.

_"You're not going to lose us, Starscream. Not unless you are the one that decides to leave."_

"I never… never… I'm not a traitor…"

The body under his talons starts to move, and he closes unseeing optics and burrows his beak between his puffed out chest feathers, trying to block the world.

This is not their future, it _can't be_.

Can it?

* * *

Getting past the defenses is a job that they could have done with their optics offline.

Tigatron, a big white tiger that made both Cassettes do a double take at first due to the similarities with their Megatron's own alt mode, dropped them as close as possible in his patrol route, and from there, it was easy for two smaller than average Cybertronian to slip past the defenses, especially with the ruckus Airrazor and Rattrap were creating.

From there, it was even easier.

Seriously, who left so many holes unguarded, not to say unblocked, in a stationary base that had already been breached by the enemy at least once?

Being inside isn't much of a difference.

Black cat in a black ship, and while Frenzy is the darkest of the two, Rumble's grayish-brown fur blends in well enough, especially with his small stature and his fast and silent movements. If any were to get a glimpse of him, they would probably think him an organic rat. They've met a couple of them already.

The ship, whoever, is playing against them.

It's strange while still being familiar, so it is _tricking_ them.

They've found two hatches that turned out to be accesses to coolant and fuel lines, as well as energy grids, but no single connection to the main computer.

Ravage is getting _annoyed_.

They are Soundwave's Cassettes, the best spies ever. Not even that paranoid Red Alert's traps stop them, and they get more and more bizarre by the day.

And a crashed ship is going to be their undoing?

_Never!_

Rumble stops, and Ravage knows they've found another hatch.

His brother may be noisy and more battle-oriented, but he's a master of vibrations. How would he be able to so effortlessly direct his assault with his pile-drivers to a very specific target and nothing more if not?

So, almost unnoticeable as they are, Rumble can manage to use their own footsteps as a kind of radar if he focuses enough.

Which is why the Rust-Spotted Cat needs to be vigilant for both of them until they get to the needed connection, where the roles of watcher will be swapped.

This hatch is big, but, luckily, is just what they have been looking for.

The data they find, on the other servo, is _not_.

The server is strange, and almost a bit hard to access, but Ravage is good enough.

And then, he sees the timestamp.

They're supposed to get as much data from the Predacons as possible, including the reason for their truce, but the Cassette throws himself to it like a depleted mech does Energon.

The more he finds, the less he wishes he'd done so.

Autobot Council, Tri-Predacus Council, Pax Cybertronia… all created to maintain peace after the Autobots won the Great War against the Decepticons.

The _Darksyde_ doesn't have a full database of everything, but Ravage doesn't need the list of casualties.

He's pulled out of the hack by Rumble shaking him, both physically and through the bond.

Someone's coming.

They close the hatch and scurry away, as silent as before.

No alarm is raised as they make their way back, exiting through the same rip to cross the lava fields once more, to the rendezvous point with Tigatron, whose large size allows the Cassettes to ride on his back and get back to the _Axalon_ faster than they could have done otherwise.

Ravage stays silent during the whole time, shaking softly and with his brother pressed against his side as if he had been welded there.

When they finally exit the lift inside the ship's bridge, they find the rest of Maximals all there, nervous or worried.

Ramjet is sitting next to one of the CR Chambers, and, for the first time since he initiated the hack, the black and silver Cassette's processor stops.

And then, he notices the Conehead looking at the tiny space between the Chamber and the wall.

Not even hearing the questions about their findings, Ravage runs to their fellow Decepticon's side, Rumble close behind.

And there, nestled in a pitiful ball of fluffed out feathers, is Starscream, uncomfortably wedged between the back of the Chamber and the wall.

A Seeker, voluntarily boxing himself.

The Cassette's almost imperceptible shivering turns to full blown trembling.

He has found out something about their future too. That's the only available explanation.

Slowly, Ravage approaches, and an empty red eye opens to look at him.

Whimpering, the smaller Decepticon burrows himself under the Flier's chest.

And as Starscream stands up a bit to allow him to get comfortable before lying down once more, the Cassette finally realizes why organic birds sit over their fragile newsparks' shells.

It feels like nesting between Soundwave's front legs, curled against his chest plates to hear his fuel pump and feel his pulsing spark, Carrier's neck lying down over his frame to allow the smaller Cybertronian to feel his warmth and his short fur in an arm-less embrace—

Or like resting inside the Cassette Carrier's chest compartment, all security and care and the knowledge that he's there, and he won't be going away.

Some orns, Ravage wishes he could always be in Soundwave's chest compartment.

Now, he wishes he could always stay under Starscream's feathery chest and belly, and never have to go back to a past that is doomed to be destroyed.

The Seeker moves again, and a nanoklik later, he feels Rumble press against his side, worry and fear through their bond, so Ravage curls around his brother, paws around his smaller frame to pull him against his chest.

He's the oldest. He needs to be strong.

When Starscream lies down again, he almost breaks down sobbing.

How can he be, when he knows he's going to fail him, his twin, their brothers, their faction, their own _Carrier_?

"I don't want to lose anyone else." He sobs, shaking harshly, and Rumble presses closer.

"Bro?"

"I don't _want to_."

"What happened?" He hears Optimus ask, and can almost feel Tigatron's shrug.

"He was in some kind of shock when I picked them up, and the other didn't know anything. What happened to the Flier?"

"We believe he may have remembered something." And Ravage sobs once more, because he wishes he could forget, wishes he would never have to function through more memories of the deactivation of his family.

But he won't be able to.

The future is already—

_"We will _make_ our own future."_

Megatron.

They rebelled against the Senate for freedom, for their function not to be destined by a bunch of mechs too full of themselves, to break free of the oppressing caste system.

_"If you want to accomplish something, you better start working for it."_

With some deep intakes, Ravage's tremors stop.

Slowly, he gets out from under the Seeker, Rumble popping his helm out of the feathers to observe him with confusion, but doesn't follow when the black and silver Cassette jumps on the table.

"Ravage?"

"They have a Golden Disk."

"We knew that."

"_Another_ Golden Disk."

Grateful his subspace can be accessed without changing modes, the Rust-Spotted Cat produces the storage chip where he copied all information relevant to the Maximal-Predacon truce.

"_What_?!"

Instead of answering, he leaves the chip on the table and jumps down, once more joining his brother under the calmer Seeker's plumage, the Air Commander having moved a bit forward so that Ramjet could squeeze next to him.

Once more in the warmth and safety no mech would expect from the Decepticon SIC, Ravage curls around the Least Weasel and shutters his optics.

He feels more drained than ever before, and the silence from the carrier-creator and the rest of fraternal bonds isn't exactly reassuring.

But they'll go back, and then he can help Soundwave make sure they don't lose the war…

"Can we go back?" He whispers, the activity of the Maximals as they revise his data helping mask his words.

But the Seeker puffs his feathers out even more and leans his helm down.

The beak petting his head is sharp as an Energon blade, and has been covered by both organic and Cybertronian life fluids in more than one occasion.

Ravage purrs and relaxes even more.

"I promised I would take you back. Nothing will make me go back on my word."

Safe and secure with his brother by his side and both Seekers watching over them, the Cassette initiates recharging protocols.

_"We will _make_ our own future."_

* * *

**AN:** This chapter takes place during the episode _Before the Storm_. Anything that isn't told differently happened as in canon.

Poor Decepticons. I'm starting to feel sorry for them.

For those interested, in my headcanon, Cassettes are always the Cassette Carrier's creations, and Cybertronian can be created through Vector Sigma, or by other mechs by splitting their sparks or by mixing them with another mech's. Meaning, a Cybertronian can have one, two, or no 'biological parents'. Ravage had two. Ever seen Soundwave with another mech? No? Good, 'cause that's the reason Ravage doesn't want _another_ death in the family.

Also, Megatron is a Maltese Tiger, which is why the Cassettes were startled by Tigatron, since white and maltese tigers are (supposed to be) from the South Chinese subspecies (Maltese Tigers are reported, but not proved).


	5. Identity Crisis

The data they have taken from the Predacons is unsettling, but Rattrap is more worried about something else.

The new Maximals haven't transformed to robot mode, not even once.

While it's obvious they can deal with their beast modes' instincts easily, no one knows anything about their capabilities in robot mode.

Or their weapons.

They have extra blasters and plasma guns in the _Axalon_, no exploration vessel worth its designation is without weapons to protect the crew in case they manage to get themselves to hostile worlds, but who knows how good they are with them, or even if they can use them?

Ravage and Rumble are small enough that only the tiniest of their extra weaponry would be manageable, and even then it would depend on their strength.

Plus, what if they're like Chopperface, more of the hand-to-hand fighters instead of sharpshooters?

They _need to know_.

So, once they're done with their Energon rations, Rattrap steps forward from the entrance, from where he's been observing the suspiciously calm newbies.

When none of them startle at his presence, his hunch that they all knew he was there is confirmed.

Perhaps it's thanks their beast modes' instincts, but there's something about the new guys that he doesn't like.

Anyway, one thing at a time.

"So, I've been thinking—"

"Did it hurt?" The Weasel asks mockingly, receiving a glare from the Cat and the Peregrine Falcon while the Crested Eagle snickers.

Rattrap twitches, but he has more than enough experience with bantering to answer easily to that question.

"It will hurt _you_. I need you all to transform." The four of them tense, some more subtly than others, and the spy's optics narrow. "Things are about to get nasty, and I need to know what you can and can't do. So that we can babysit you properly, you know." He adds with an infuriating smirk at the end, and Ramjet and Rumble bristle, feathery crest and furry hide reacting to their annoyance.

"We can take care of ourselves." Starscream answers instead, like he _always_ does, obviously the leader of this little group inside the Maximals'.

"But I don't know that. So, wanna do it here or outside?" He asks, the insult that their ability to cause damage is non-existent obvious in his suggestion that the ship won't suffer from such a training session.

There's an audible angered growl that makes Rattrap's very struts tremble from the deceivingly harmless Weasel, but the Peregrine Falcon straightening, eyes narrowed, is enough to mute him.

"Nowhere, because we are _not_ transforming."

"You _will_ if you want to—"

"We _can't_."

And the spy falls silent, mouth still open as disbelief stops him from closing it while those simple two words are processed.

"You _can't_? What do you mean, you _can't_?"

"Just what I said. It's not just our databanks that got scrambled during the crash." And he looks so frigging calm as he says that, like they weren't trapped in their beast modes with battle looming over them.

Though, on the other hand, they have proved their abilities in that form, at least the smaller two.

They had all assumed they had transformed to robot mode to infiltrate and hack the _Darksyde_, but if they _hadn't_… Whoa, boy…

"Why didn't you _say_ that?! That's why we have CR Chambers!" He exclaims, annoyed despite everything, because they may be good infiltrators and excellent fliers, respectively, but they are _useless_ against the Preds without real weapons.

"We are _not_ getting in those _things_." Starscream spits, head tilting downward menacingly, with a tone that allows no argument.

Rattrap has never been good at listening to such warnings.

"Of course you are! How are you going to use any weapons when you have no hands?" He points with maybe a bit more heat than he should, and red eyes—eerie as they are to be seen in the _beast mode_ as they are—narrow further.

"Our self-repairs are dealing with it, just like they are taking care of our… memories." And the hesitation is barely noticeable, but is obviously there. "There's no need for the Chambers when our own frames can take care of it."

"It will be faster and more _efficient_. Who knows if your self-repairs aren't scrambled too, if your own transformation sequences got messed up!" He protests, taking a step closer with an accusing finger pointed at the Falcon—

He's lucky he has such quick reflexes, because that snapping beak would have severed his dactyl clean had it managed to close on it.

"Hey!"

"We are _not_ getting in those _torture chambers_!"

Rattrap's mouth opens, temper boiling at the aggressive gesture and display, gray-blue wings opened menacingly with that sharp beak ready to try to rip him to pieces if he so much as twitches closer again—

_"Maximal torture chambers!"_

And all thought stops.

They had joked after that, once Optimus had been back and when Dinobot wasn't in the room—the first time their commander had had to wrestle the raptor off of him for it had been enough of a warning—but they had all assumed such a concept was nothing more than a rumor among the Predacon community, an urban legend, and they had let it go after some days.

These Maximals have their memories scrambled, slowly trickling back, and they have seen little of it, but they all know their memories are anything but good.

How would they _know_ about Predacon rumors? _Why_ would they even think about such a… a _messed up concept_? Maximal torture chambers? Hah! Impossible!

… Aren't they?

The _Axalon_ is an exploration vessel. That is common knowledge, means nothing more than the crew would be frolicking in uncharted parts of the universe and unknown planets, dealing with gross aliens and dangerous odds and all that thing.

But…

_"Awhile back I was contacted about doing a favor for the Maximal High Council. Now that we have what we stopped for, we are going to travel to the Alpha Quadrant and drop it off on the most barren moon we can find. Then we will continue on with our mission."_

_"The _Alpha Quadrant_?! How'd we get tapped for that gig?"_

_"The _Axalon_ is the only ship within a hundred light years equipped with a transwarp drive. And the Council has asked us to do them this favor to help clean up a _mistake_."_

It's been a while since he last thought about that, what with all the excitement that followed…

_"How's that Maximal ship?"_

_"Not good, Big Bot. I've got two Maximal signals, but they're faint, and their reactor is unstable."_

_"Not enough time to repair them then… Suggestions?"_

_"We do have a few blank protoforms in the cargo hold. I could perform a remote spark core transfer into two of the protoform bodies, but my equipment is not properly set up for that type of procedure. They could lose much if not all of their core mainframe."_

_"If it is our only choice, then do it. We've still got a mission to complete."_

He's pretty sure one of those was Airrazor. The voice calling for them to 'jump in any time' as he tried to lock onto the attacking vessel is hard to forget.

But the other?

"Helloooo? Anyone there?"

He berates himself for it just an instant later, but Rattrap jumps back with a yelp at the sudden tapping against his leg, only to find himself under the scrutiny of the other four Maximals, the Weasel in front of him obviously responsible for both the words and the contact.

Embarrassed, he clears his throat before straightening, using the time to remember what they were talking about.

_Right, damaged transformation sequence, self-repair and 'Maximal torture chambers'._

"And how long would it take for you to be able to transform?" He asks as calmly as he can, as if nothing had happened.

Red eyes narrow suspiciously, but it only takes a second for Starscream to seemingly relax and straighten.

"Less than it would have taken yesterday. We are not defenseless, and we can very well just stay out of the fight if turns out we will only get in the way." The Falcon answers, and even though Ramjet and Rumble scowl at the words and the possibility they explain, none of them protests.

Starscream's claws can pierce armor, as evidenced by the gouges on Cheetor's plating when they were first brought in, so it is possible the Crested Eagle's are able to do the same, and the smaller two are good enough to slip under the Preds' olfactory sensors.

It will have to do.

"Let me know when you guys can transform again." He answers simply, receiving a nod from the Peregrine Falcon, before walking out of the room.

That… didn't go as well as he had expected, but it went better than he could've ever imagined.

He has no idea of their capabilities in robot mode, but he has knowledge than he didn't even know he was lacking.

Now, he just needs—

_Bingo!_

"Hey, Chopperface!"

He may have sounded happier than he should, because Dinobot's glare isn't his usual annoyed one, but full of suspicion instead.

_Oops._

"Vermin." The Predacon returns with narrowed optics, scanning him for anything potentially harmful. "I believe Optimus wants you for some kind of mission."

"Yeah, sure, I'll talk to him later. Just one thing." The raptor's gaze sharpens, wariness increasing as the spy shifts slightly as he steels himself for a possible physically painful answer to his next question. "Where did you get that thing about Maximal torture chambers?"

Being slammed to the wall is not unexpected, nor is the almost chocking clawed hand surrounding his neck or the snarling face hovering close to his own, so Rattrap just clasps a stripped forearm in reflex, but stays otherwise still.

"I seem to recall you were _ordered_ to _drop it_." The Predacon hisses, rumbling voice echoing through the Maximal's struts in a threatening warning.

"I know, I know. I just… am curious. No mocking, I promise."

Dinobot goes so still that, for an instant, Rattrap thinks someone has messed with his motor controls.

But as bright red optics narrow, staring intently into his own, searching, the spy realizes what he has just said.

_I promise._

Despite all of their insulting, both of them know Rattrap doesn't give his word like nothing.

In a sense, the spy, infiltrator, garbage muncher and cowardly rat has his own sense of honor.

Slowly, Dinobot lowers him to the ground and releases his neck, straightening as he analyzes the Maximal further.

When the gray and copper mech doesn't do more than rub his neck reflexively before letting his servo fall, the Predacon—

Looks away.

Not only down the corridor, as it may seem at first glance, but into space.

Into old memories none but him are aware of, at least not among those conforming the _Axalon_'s crew.

"I have it from a reliable source that they exist, and that your Council keeps them _functional_." He whispers, hissing the last word in a way that has more than one meaning, none of them pleasant.

Rattrap has nothing to say to that, so he just looks away from the tense warrior in front of him, clawed hands curled into shaking fists.

"Okay. Thanks." He manages after some seconds to pull himself together, and looks up to meet Dinobot's intense stare.

"Why ask about them _now_?"

"Something the newbies said." And the larger mech startles visibly, putting two and two together.

"They're _Maximals_."

_"The _Axalon_ is the only ship within a hundred light years equipped with a transwarp drive. And the Council has asked us to do them this favor to help clean up a _mistake_."_

"I don't know." He whispers, but knows the other has heard when he sees him scanning their surroundings, soft sniffing sounds reaching his audials.

Perks of their beast modes. There's a reason Dinobot is always complaining about smells.

When he feels secure in the knowledge they're alone, the Predacon turns to him once more.

"Explain."

"The _Axalon_ is an exploration ship. But before we could get to the exploration part, the Council gave us a mission."

"Intercepting the _Darksyde_."

"_Before_ that one. In Optimus' own words, we had to 'clean up a _mistake_ of the Council'." The raptor tenses, red optics narrowing once more.

"And you think…"

"I'm not sure what I think, what I _should_ think. I just know there's something weird about the new guys."

"Don't you have a list of the crew? Data files? Profiles?"

"We hadn't even taken off when we got the order to chase _you_. If there are such files, they either were left behind of damaged in the crash. The Matrix knows they wouldn't be the only thing." He answers, scoffing at such an obvious question.

As if he hadn't tried to get such information, both from the _Axalon_ and the _Darksyde_, when he infiltrated it. The main mainframes of both ships are intact, but the price of maintaining the basics during the crash and the failed transwarp jump was the loss of the minor systems and lots of data.

There's a reason they _still_ have to deal with repairs, and why none of the vessels' systems can pinpoint where and when they are.

It's likely they never will, especially after that thing with the transwarp engines and their failed attempt at taking off.

"We should keep an optic on them, then." Dinobot grumbles softly, almost to himself, as he stares down the corridor Rattrap has come through, and the spy finds himself following his gaze, even though there's nothing to see.

"For once, I agree, Scalebelly. I agree."

* * *

**AN****:** This chapter takes place before the _Other Voices_ episodes, with the obvious changes seen in last chapter.

And there you have the explanation about the beast modes. Obviously, that just buys the Decepticons some time, but it won't last forever. And I've managed to get both Rattrap and Dinobot suspicious of them. How did that happen?

The 'memories' are from the _Beast Wars_ prologue comic _Dawn of Future's Past_. The 'mistake' is obviously Protoform X/Rampage, but since only Optimus knows that, Rattrap has reason to be suspicious._  
_

The explanation about the lack of crew manifest is mine, because, seriously, it was such an obvious thing to take a look at, especially when the Preds started reprogramming the protoforms, that I can't believe no one ever thought about looking at it even once. But since we see nothing about it, my brain got to the conclusion the crash did more damage that just the obvious wrecking of the ships.


	6. The Beginning of the End

"So… is that supposed to happen?" Rumble asks, unable to look away from the glitching screen as Rhinox tries to get some kind of image of whatever is going on.

"No, it's not! Divert all power to space scanner, lock on their beam and right it!" The Rhinoceros orders the computer, clicking madly, and Ravage can _feel_ just how frustrated Starscream is at being unable to do anything, and not because of lack of servos.

Even if he could transform without giving them away, none of them really knows how to operate this machinery.

"_Boosting power. Interlocking… Lock achieved. Imaging._" The AI proclaims, and some kind of energy pillar appears onscreen, seemingly connecting with one of the moons.

"What the Pit is—"

Despite Ramjet's words, they all hear the clicking of a hatch opening.

Taking into account there's only Dinobot in the ship, and he would have no reason to do anything other than walk through the door-less corridor…

There's a black and gold femme hanging upside down from a hatch in the ceiling.

Rhinox is down before he can do more than reach for his weapon, shouting in pain at the current streaking over his frame, and the Decepticons scatter.

Hidden in the darkness under the console, waiting for the opportune moment, the Rust-Spotted Cat can only watch as the stick-like appendages on her arms start shooting like machineguns, the Crested Eagle going down with a grunt before he can properly maneuver, while Starscream manages to take to the air and round on her from her back, talons fully extended—

And another unknown mech drops from the hatch, also hanging upside down, just to find himself turned into a pincushion.

The small room hasn't allowed the Air Commander to build enough speed for his claws to do more than pierce the outer armor, however, and before he can retreat, a pincer-like servo closes around his neck with a sickening crunch.

When his frame is thrown aside he doesn't move again, the bluish Energon that has been slowly replacing their original pinkish one as they refueled from the native resources dripping from the cuts around his neck.

It takes a moment to realize the dread and horror he's feeling is not his own.

Well, not completely.

He can't see him, but Ravage knows Rumble is also hiding under one of the consoles, trying to stay still and silent until they can do something.

And then, Dinobot bursts into the room and almost steps on Starscream's immobile frame.

"What the—"

Before he can react, both the femme and the intruding mech unleash the fury of their arm-mounted machineguns on him, managing to knock him through one of the lifts' glass cover, but fortunately just knocking him out thanks to his thick armor.

As soon as it started, the battle is over.

The two Predacons, for he can see their sigils now, drop to the ground and look around, and once they find no more resistance, the purple one lets out a long string of curses as he nurses his pierced chest plates, slow trickles of glittering blue fluid seeping through them.

"Oh, don't be such a baby." The gold and black one scoffs, stepping towards Ravage's hiding place—

No, not towards the Rust-Spotted Cat, but the console, and the image on its screen.

As if they didn't have enough problems, being trapped in an alternate future—because he refuses to believe it is their own—with the Autobots' descendants, now they have to deal with alien anomalies _and_ Predacons invading their ship.

"What is it?" He hears the femme ask, and tenses involuntarily when the purple mech approaches.

"The beginning… of the end."

In unison, both Cassettes snort silently.

So _dramatic_… If Starscream wasn't in stasis lock he would…

A brief look shows the Peregrine Falcon still on the same ruffled limp position, the barely there Energon easily visible on his grayish and reddish feathers.

Not enough has been spilled, and he still has his color nanites intact. He'll be fine. It's just stasis lock.

He _has_ to be fine.

He promised he would get them all back, and Starscream has _never_ broken a promise.

Which is one of the reasons Soundwave acquiesces to keeping him around, even managing to convince Megatron to spare him when his treacherous behavior seems to go too far.

Despite all his claims to deactivate their leader and take command by himself, he hasn't _promised_ he'll do it.

So, he'll be fine, and when the other Maximals come back from their recon and get rid of the intruders, they'll focus on whatever the alien anomaly is, and Starscream will somehow twist the laws of physics or something of the like and manage to stop them from getting deactivated.

And, if he feels like it, he'll even manage to get them back to their timeline at the same time and they'll all laugh about it over some High Grade when they tell the other Decepticons about the experience.

Yes, Frenzy will love to hear about Ramjet acting like an idiot with Airrazor, and Soundwave will enjoy studying the blueprints he's managed to acquire, and Megatron will be making monkey jokes at Prime for the next couple vorn without the Autobot even knowing what is going on.

They will…

Ravage is jolted back to the present as the Predacons start to move and, making a split second decision, he follows.

Apprehension fills the bond just before his comm activates and, for an instant, he fears they'll be detected—

But the intruders simply continue on their way.

"_Bro, what are you _doing_?!_"

"_We need to know what they want. Stay in the command center, contact the Maximals, and make sure Starscream and Ramjet are alright. The last thing we need is them being put in a CR Chamber._"

"_But you know I know nothing of Medical Repairs!_"

And Ravage freezes.

Because that's the truth.

Snarling silently, he whirls around, back into the bridge, and meets the Least Weasel's optics with a jerk of his helm towards the corridor.

Rumble scurries away after the Predacons, and the Rust-Spotted Cat hurriedly jumps onto the closest console after ascertaining the other two Decepticons still function, if just because they still have their colors.

The machinery may be strange, but there are things that never really change.

And one of them—

"Ravage to Optimus, do you copy?" He calls, voice soft as he keeps his audials prickled for any sound.

"_Optimus here, Ravage. Does Rhinox know how to stop—_"

"Rhinox is in stasis." He cuts, growling softly as he gives the green weapon next to him a glare. "We have intruders."

"_What?_"

"Two Predacons, a black and gold femme and a purple mech with machineguns attached to their arms. Rhinox, Dinobot, Starscream and Ramjet are down. Rumble is keeping an optic on the Preds, but they seemed to think the alien anomaly is some kind of Doomsday weapon."

"_Well, that's just prime._" Ravage tilts his head at that, confused, before there's a sigh through the comm. "_Do you think you can get the others back to activation?_"

"Yes."

And there's a second too long of silence at the certainty in his voice, but if Optimus is curious he doesn't ask.

"_Alright, do it. I'll get Cheetor and Tigatron to get there on the double. Oh, and Ravage? Those were Blackarachnia and Tarantulas. They have spider beast modes and their weapons can inject a painful dose of Cybervenom. If any of them has been hit with that—_"

"Get them to the Chambers, yes. Now hurry!" He hisses before hastily closing the connection and jumping down again, hiding under the console.

His audials haven't failed him, for a nanoklik later a red and silver mech drops down the still open hatch and, after a look, walks down the corridor the other two Predacons went to.

With a quick burst of alert and wariness through the bond with Rumble, he hurries to Starscream's side and scans the neck.

Misaligned neck struts.

Oh, he's going to be whining for _orns_ after this…

But it's an easy fix, even if he'll have to deal with some coordination problems for some time.

So, with a tiny grimace but full of determination, Ravage gets to work.

* * *

Ignoring Terrosaur's panic, Megatron turns to the computer's holoprojection of the _Axalon_, confused for a moment, before he feels hope soar again as he reads the details.

"The Maximal base… And the shield is down. Oh, yes!" He crows, a smile making it to his faceplate before he turns his full attention to the projection. "Computer! Scan Maximal base. Use alien frequency."

"_Scanning… Two Maximals detected in command center. None functional._" And his smirk starts to widen as he sees the pointers appear. "_Units Tarantulas and Blackarachnia active. In stasis hold. Unit Inferno moving toward their position._" A surge of something like relief fills him at that, for as annoying as he is, the Fire Ant is the most loyal of his Predacons. "_Three unidentified energy signatures in command center. Two active. One unidentified energy signature active in stasis hold._"

That… is not good.

"Unidentified signatures? Rescan! I want them identified!"

"_Scanning… Unable to identify energy signatures._"

"Impossible! They should be—" And it dawns like a punch to the faceplates, sudden and almost painful. "Oh, right. The new Maximals, yes. But why would they show as unidentified? That could only happen if they didn't have neither Maximal nor Predacon programming… And there were only two of them."

"Huh, Megatron? Shields at full power!" Terrosaur screeches, breaking through his thoughts, and the Tyrannosaur shakes his head.

They have more important things to worry about now. But if Tarantulas manages to get them not killed…

A smile starts to grow again at the thought.

"Unidentified energy signatures, aren't you? _Yessss_…"

* * *

Ah, the old trick of shooting your 'ally' on the back. It seems it never grows old.

Hidden in the shadows, Rumble can only be grateful for his small size when he sees and hears the energy shot fly from behind him, slamming the black and gold femme to a bunch of boxes, and stay very still as an unknown red and silver mech walks past him without giving him a look.

Thank Primus he was sparked a Cassette…

Predacon or not, though, he has to admire the style and sturdiness of the newcomer as he not only stops the purple one's projectile, but endures various shots from the machineguns and manages to catch his flying blaster as it falls behind him—

Before setting the glitch on fire.

Experience helps him keep his chuckles silent as the techno-geek rushes past him, screeching in pain before slamming against a wall and knocking himself into stasis.

That… was kind of like the Autobot saboteur's style. Except for not avoiding the shots. Though, if the black and white flea-bag had the thick armor this one does, he's sure he would have reacted like that.

"Inferno to Royalty. I have intercepted the spiders." Static answers the mech, who tilts his head in curiosity while Rumble contacts his brother to let him know about the escape pod and the planet's imminent destruction. "Can you receive me? My Queen?"

Once more, he thanks his frame type as he covers his muzzle with his paws and presses against the wall, muffling his laughter.

_Queen_?

Oh, Starscream's going to laugh himself _glitched_ when he hears about this…

"Ah ah ah. Mustn't touch."

Startled by the voice, Rumble peeks around and, after observing the brief but intense fight, reconsiders his opinion.

The femme—she said widow and she's been called spider, so Black Widow?—must be the descendant of the Autobot saboteur, because that was some nifty aft-kicking there, _literally_. The 'blow the guy with his own weapon' thing was a pretty nice touch too.

"_Rumble, the Maximals are here. How are things at your end?_"

"_Two Predacons down from infighting. The femme's the one standing, and she's doing something to—what the _Pit_?!_"

"_Rumble? Rumble!_"

"_She's hacking the other spider!_" The Cassette lets out, trying not to move so as to not catch the Widow's attention, even though she seems busy enough. "_With some kind of outer interface, a visor-thingy with a cable. Oh, and they all talk aloud too much, she's getting the other Preds' data-tracks to finish modifying the pod into some kind of space-travel-capable tiny ship._"

"_Stay safe, we're coming._"

"_Hey, it's me, Rumble!_"

"_Which is _precisely_ why I said what I did._"

Scoffing silently, the Least Weasel closes the connection—

And jumps with a startled shout as the Predacon screeches in pain, huddling into the shadows as she rips off the visor and looks around.

After a moment, she shakes her helm and recovers the interface, returning to the pod.

Not a klik later, Ravage is suddenly by his side, Rattrap and Airrazor behind him with their blasters trained on the Predacon.

The Maximals exchange a look before turning to the Cassettes, and Rumble gestures for them to wait.

Whatever the Spider is doing, it may prove useful.

Nodding back, they move to better positions to keep an optic on her and wait.

* * *

His neck hurts, his processor hurts, and he can feel only about 87.3% of his sensory net, which makes for clumsy movements.

But at least he'll be active and aware when they get blasted to the Pit.

"What did you do to those slagging aliens that they're willing to destroy a whole planet to get rid of a servoful of us!" He shrieks, uncaring about how a soot-stained Ramjet inches away from him with a grimace as Tigatron and Cheetor brace themselves against the active CR Chambers holding Dinobot and Rhinox.

"Apparently, we contaminated their experiment." Primal answers, and Starscream feels as if he's been slapped.

"_What_?! Can they be any more petty and childish?!" He screeches, wobbling as the ship is rocked by the explosions of the super-heated Energon deposits, and silently bows to let Skywarp know about this experience when they get back.

Maybe then he'll stop messing with _Starscream_'s work.

"Not the _time_!" Optimus growls, staggering with the next loud explosion that sends the Peregrine Falcon to the floor. "How long until Rhinox is functional?"

"At least a megacycle. He took a pretty big dose of Cybervenom." The Cheetah answers, and, after a consultation with the computer's AI, it's clear it will be too long.

"Doesn't this thing have something we can fire at it? Some kind of photon missile?" The Decepticon Second shouts from his position on the floor, resigned to the fact he'll fall again if he tries to get up.

"No, and with the shields active—"

"That thing is using far too much energy, that means it doesn't have any defenses to have it diverted to. If we could get a shot in we could probably take it out!" The Gorilla looks startled at that, and the Seeker snarls as best as his beak allows. "The pod those Preds were modifying! If we can detonate it close enough to that thing the transwarp explosion should be enough to destroy it!"

"Of course!" The Maximal leader exclaims, optics widening, and before Starscream can even move, he's picked up and finds himself being bounced against a furry hide as Primal rushes to the stasis hold. "Why didn't you say you had engineering knowledge?"

"'Cause I don't? Come on, it was obvious from the start! Get a hard enough hit in the right spot and even the sturdiest wall will break!" He squeaks, digging his talons in the larger mech's arm.

"You could've said it sooner!"

"A bit busy trying not to get stepped on while I can barely keep myself standing! Now release—oomph!" His tirade is cut short when they get to the room and he's unceremoniously dropped to the ground, the Gorilla stalking to the femme being held at gunpoint as the rest of Maximals rush in after them.

"Can it fly?"

"Of course it can fly, you _ape_." The Predacon scoffs, chin held up proudly, as Ravage and Rumble help Starscream to his pedes. "But it won't do you any good. The systems will only respond to me."

"Then change them to respond to me." He orders, picking her up by the neck.

"You'll blow yourself to atoms!" The Air Commander exclaims, pushing aside the Cassettes as he takes a step closer. "The Transwarp explosion will vaporize everything in its wake!"

"If it saves this planet, it'll be worth it." The Maximal commander answers, and the rest finally realize what they're talking about.

"What we need to do is get it on autopilot."

"What do you think this is, a _real_ spaceship? It's a pod, it doesn't _have_ an autopilot. And before you suggest it, there's no time to get one built, least of all installed." The Spider hisses, and gray feathers fluff out—

Before a new tremor almost sends him to the ground, only Ramjet's firm frame helping him stay standing.

"Looks like it's the only chance we have right now." Optimus lets out with a pointed glare at the Predacon.

After a moment, she glares at the guns pointed at her helm.

"Well? I've got work to do." She growls, and the weapons are immediately taken away to let her go back to the pod and the interface still linked to it.

"You can't do this, Big Bot! I'll fly the ship!" Cheetor exclaims, poking a dactyl against his chest plates, before he's pushed back by Tigatron.

Ugh, hero complex. They're lucky the bigger feline seems to be able to silence the spotted mech.

"No! Let me." All Decepticons groan out loud, but the sound is muted by the roaring and explosions against the shields.

"I am grateful, but only a Flier has a chance to get clear of the blast." Optimus answers, and Starscream tenses.

Is he really stupid enough to believe he can out-fly an energy explosion able to take out a weapon like the aliens'?

… And, apparently, so is Airrazor, for she has just volunteered for the suicide mission.

"They're not fast enough." The Seeker mutters, leaning more heavily against the Crested Eagle.

"Well, then why don't _you_ do it?" Rattrap hisses from behind them, and suddenly all optics are on the Decepticons.

"Maybe because my motor controls are scrambled? I can barely stand!" He growls, his claim reinforced not only by the other Seeker, but by his obvious wobbling, more than the jolting ship can be blamed for. "Why don't _you_?"

"Hey, suicide ain't in my job description."

"Well, at least there's someone with _a bit_ of sense."

"Nor is it in mine. Now start rigging an autocharge on that transwarp cell. I'll need about thirty nanokliks to clear the ship." Primal orders, and the rat nods as he moves to obey.

"Hey, Screamer, you agree with that?" He hisses as he pries the pod open, and even though he's seething at the nickname, Starscream knows they have more important things to worry about.

"No, but taking into account the constant assault of energy, anything more could mean the ship would get out of course. Just keep Airrazor ready to catch him when he falls and one Chamber empty and fully functional."

And Rattrap grimaces, but returns his full attention to his task.

Barely a klik later, and after some 'teary' goodbyes the Decepticons simply endure with some respectful nods—and obvious amusement when the Maximal femme rewards an 'insensitive' comment from Blackarachnia with a punch to the faceplates—the pod takes flight and the rest rush to the command center to monitor it through their holoprojector.

The tension is evident and growing as they watch the red dot that is the pod approaching the planet-destroying weapon.

Especially when the time for safe ejection, or as safe as it's going to get, comes… and goes without change.

"He's almost inside the alien structure, why doesn't he ditch?!" Airrazor exclaims, the highest strung of them after being told she'll most likely have to go catch their 'fearless leader' to help him evade a painful reconnection with the ground.

"What did you do?" Rumble growls at their prisoner, fur bristling from where he's observing the holoprojection on the table next to Ravage.

"Too late. Goodbye, Optimus." The Predacon answers with a singsong tone, laughing, and the Maximals' faceplates distort with horror.

The alien weapon explodes.

* * *

Shock sets in quickly as the computer confirms what they feared.

Optimus is gone.

"But why didn't he leave the ship as planned?" Tigatron questions, his frustration plain to hear.

"Good question." Rattrap hisses, stepping away from the console and reaching for his gun. "And I know just who to ask." When he whirls around, there's no one there.

"Uh, who was supposed to keep an eye on the Spider?" Rumble asks, and the spy feels his temper boil.

The room is empty, only the Maximals there, with the older team members closer to the console while the newest are next to the table, Starscream curled on the ground with his body wobbling despite the tremors having stopped, and the others close to the Falcon.

"I will hunt her down." The tiger growls, transforming to beast mode—

"_Alert. Quantum surge detected. Vector five, nine, seven._"

"As expected. The shields are still up, aren't they?" The dizzy-looking Flier mumbles, sounding a mix of annoyed and resigned, and Rattrap has to remind himself strangling him from 'forgetting' to mention that before won't help.

"Everyone to your posts! Optimus didn't blow himself up so that we could get scrapped by space junk!" The rodent orders, and the Maximals, minus the newbies, hurry to obey.

"Exterior shields at maximum!"

"We've got power fluctuations all over the board, they'll never hold!"

"_Make_ them hold!"

"Impact in five! Four! Three!"

A quick look around reveals Cheetor's fear, Tigatron's growing distress as he claws the board, Airrazor's desperation, and how the smallest Maximals huddle together under the grayish Peregrine Falcon's wing, the Crested Eagle burying against his side.

And Rattrap prays that whatever happens next, they manage to survive it.

The last thing he wants is for Rhinox and Chopperface to get out of the CR Chambers only to be welcomed by deactivated frames.

"Two!"

The console explodes, sending him flying to slam painfully to the ground, and he can hear Airrazor and Cheetor going through the same before new tremors start to shake the ship, Tigatron and Ramjet shouting at the movement, but the only thing he can see through blurry optics is the way Rumble curls into reddish feathers, terror distorting his face as he clings to the Flier with the Cat pressing close to them both, and Starscream's determined expression as he huddles over them, as if he could shield them from the quantum surge, unwilling to give up despite the stains of Energon all around his neck and the way he can barely keep himself upright—

And then there's pain piercing his frame like super-acidic rain, and he can feel his armor boiling and peeling off and there are voices screaming that he can barely hear over his own, but that the tiny part of his processor not writhing in pain recognizes as Cheetor and the newbies and what a lousy leader he's been, unable to keep the shields up to take care of the youngest members of the cr—

* * *

**AN:** And that's it for _Beast Wars_ season 1 (with the little scene at the end being from the first episode of season 2, _Aftermath_). My apologies for the too small changes, but I really couldn't see things changing all that much, besides the Maximals finding Blackarachnia sooner. After all, the Decepticons' transformation codes are 'scrambled', poor little things, and thus had no chance against the fully armed Spiders. However, now they know what they're against if they don't transform... and Megatron has found out something he likes too (the mech creeps me out, I swear I could barely stand the tiny snippet from his POV, and nothing really happens there. I don't know how I'll manage season 2... and 3, if I get to it *shudder*)

Anyway, now is when the real _fun_ begins, _yessss_.

... I can't belive I wrote _that_, ugh! Excuse me while I go scrub myself *shudders*

Also, if I don't get the chance to update again, I'll say it now: Happy holidays!


	7. Part of Your World

The _Axalon_ isn't just dark when he reboots, but also completely trashed.

Ceiling panels have fallen down, tubes and wires hanging like colorful vines, parts of the consoles and other machinery strewn around, the holotable overturned, sparks giving off brief flashes of light that his optics are having a hard time dealing with…

The groaning voices are what give him the strength to stand up and walk to them, and he's more than glad to see Tigatron and Airrazor undamaged.

"Rattrap and Cheetor!" The Flier exclaims, and he can't help the smile on his faceplates.

"Looking for me?" He calls, and immediately gets two pairs of stunned optics on him.

It's only when he sees Cheetor step up to him and they somehow manage to get themselves in front of the shiny reflective surface of a CR Chamber that the spy realizes just what those looks were for.

"Hey. I'm… _gorgeous_." He laughs, examining his new shiny silver plating with growing awe.

"The surge must've mutated your superstructures." Airrazor whispers, as amazed as them, and Rattrap has to hide a grimace.

Yeah, and what a painful _mutation_ that was just to get a buff job, the feeling of plating boiling, the pained scream from his own voice box being echoed by Cheetor and—

"The newbies!" He exclaims, cutting whatever the femme was going to say as he whirls around, dread filling him as he sees how the table is lying on its side, base having been ripped off of the ground.

There's a curse at his back that sounds a lot like Tigatron as he rushes to where he last saw the tiny Maximals, kneeling down—

A tiny shower of sparks sheds some light on the broken parts under the holotable, and Rattrap feels his breath catch in his throat.

There's an unmoving blackened bundle of something that look suspiciously like feathers next to what was the base, peeled back cables spurting out of the floor like grass, but not even the tiniest hint of electricity from them.

The question is, is there no energy because it has been cut, or because it has been spent?

He approaches slowly, shaking his helm as he refuses to see the unnatural stillness for what it is, and can only think about that conversation with Dinobot before he was sent on the patrol that would land him in that alien bungalow, about not trusting the confused and lost new guys that were even more stranded than the rest of them because of their scrambled memories returning without any semblance of order, sending them into worlds of pain and despair that left them as good as crippled…

"No… C'mon guys, don't…" Slowly, he reaches a shiny silver servo towards the bundle, feeling unnatural heat from the still unmoving scorched frame—

A twitch.

Frozen in place, Rattrap feels hope start to grow as the black bundle shivers, jerkily moving so that wings are pulled back to reveal a curled up white gray creature with two smaller and darker lumps pressed into its feathers—

And then the thing covering them, protecting them, lifts its head and turns to look at the now silver mech with bottomless pits of impossibly pure white.

The spy has heard about abysses, cracks or holes of darkness so thick it seems either like water or alive, but never once did he think there could exist an equivalent with light, or that it would be even more terrifying.

He's trapped, frame unresponsive as those voids of whiteness swallow him, the complete darkness surrounding them expanding and blocking the world until there's nothing left, not even his body, just light—

"Carrier?"

The creature breaks its stare, and Rattrap scurries away with pained gasps, shaking almost violently as he suddenly _feels_, yet still unable to look away from the black thing whose attention is now on where Rumble is shaking himself back to consciousness, having somehow pushed himself away from the dazzled pile of pale feathers and dark fur.

White flickers once, twice, and, after a third time, it starts to dim, its light extending to the black body and slowly giving color back to polished platinum marked with angular black lines that resemble a cross of lightning and ancient Cybertronian writing, and the frame soon becomes identifiable as a bird of prey, sharp talons gleaming with the same mixture of firmness and fluidity of quicksilver and pointed beak cutting the very light as it opens to reveal a tongue of pure darkness—

And the Weasel looks up and freezes, optics wide, but why would he, the thing's optics are no longer pools of infinite light, they're gleaming rubies—

"Starscream?"

… Oh, that would be it.

The metallic bird takes a tremulous step back before shaking itself, and its platinum body melts into soft-looking feathers of gray and reddish and bluish and black, legs and beak turning yellow, before it takes another step back—

And transforms.

Torso and legs change the angle to a more natural position, the leading edges of the wings forming arms while the flight feathers fold against the back of them, tail parting to hang off the sides of the hips as beak slides back over the head to cover it as some kind of helm, revealing charcoal faceplates quickly covered by a bluish servo ended in three sharp dactyls as the mech rubs his optics with a groan.

"Ow, my processor… What happened?" He asks, and that's definitely Starscream's voice, if raspier and rougher than before.

"No slagging idea." Ramjet groans, wobbly standing up before transforming back to robot mode too with the same process, though with the arm feathers pressing over them and the tail sliding to rest against his back in extra layers of armor that make him look far bulkier, and keeping his feathery crest atop his head, still folded back.

"Did you feel like… like we were on Cybertron?" Ravage questions, straightening on his back legs as he too changes, muzzle splitting to slide along the sides of his head, ears on top of his head twitching as they react to the almost imperceptible sounds all around and the lower half of the tail unfurling like a rug before it is pulled up to press against his back, the last half lying sideways over it, with the tip resting on his left hip and a vertebra protruding over his right shoulder.

"Felt like being with Carrier." The Weasel answers with a morose mumble, getting to his feet as he transforms too, the head changing much like the Cat's, but with visor instead of optics, as part of his lower body pulls up to reveal long thighs as his beast mode's back legs click together to conform the lower legs, and upper back plating separating from the body in some kind of decorative winglets while his arms extend fully from where they had been hidden in his sides, his alt mode's clicking together in the same process as his legs, the extra plating from his lower body filling the gaps to leave him with a thicker chest and shoulder armor than it may have seemed at first, his tail opening and pressing against his lower back to replace the mass that has shifted up.

"Whatever happened, I don't want to go through it ever again." Starscream scowls, voice smothering to his usual, as he finally looks up without pain in his faceplate, only annoyance and recognition when he finally sees the Maximals peeking around the uprooted holotable. "Holy Primus, what happened to you?" He asks, optics analyzing Rattrap's frame with an intensity that seems far stronger than any other time before.

"The quantum surge mutated their superstructure." Airrazor answers, fascinated, as she approaches them. "And it looks like they weren't the only ones."

Startled, the four small mechs look at each other, and it takes them just a moment for their optics to widen before they start to look over their frames.

"Oh." The Weasel whispers, looking between the two Peregrine Falcons. "Oh."

"Are all of you alright?"

"Oh."

"He means yes." Ravage translates, voice chocked, before he shakes himself back to the present. "That…"

"Looks like our transformation sequences _were_ messed up." Starscream whispers, clawed dactyls moving the Cat to observe him more in detail. "But there's nothing in my self-repair queue. Not anymore."

"Neither in mine." The other Flier whispers, crest opening and closing in nervous twitches as he processes things. "Does that mean we'll be… looking like this?"

"Seems so."

"They're not as shiny and awesome as my new body, but they're neat." Cheetor butts in, and Rumble immediately starts criticizing his frame in what seems like an automatic defensive response.

"So, do you have any weapons?" Rattrap asks, finally breaking the spell that hallucination thingy cast on him, blaming the flickering lights and the remnants of the quantum surge for it.

"Huh…" The smaller two exchange a look and, straightening, the Weasel steps forward.

And his arms change, the extra armor on the shoulders rising as the servos expand into circular slabs, plating shifting to anchor them to the shoulder armor to create some kind of tubes.

And then it's over, and what he's left with looks a lot like—

"Pile-drivers?" Cheetor asks, and the small mech can only stare at what were his arms with a mixture of horror and disbelief, looking at the flimsy-looking outer casing that doesn't hide the thick pistons and tensile cables inside, leaving them looking like some kind of skeletal… well, _pile-drivers_.

"What the Pit _happened_ to me?" He whispers in shock, twitching, and lets out a yelp when the plating on his shoulders presses down to slide some slabs of armor on what were his forearms, so that his 'pile-drivers' are now ended in monstrous claws almost half his arms length, elbow joints working once more now that the rigid outer casing has moved. "What the _Pit happened to me_?!"

"Whoa, calm down." Ramjet croons softly, but only Ravage steps forward to rest a hand on the Weasel's shoulder.

After a moment of looking into the Cat's eyes, the smallest Maximal relaxes enough to shift his arms back into common arms.

"Wicked." Cheetor whispers, but gets no answer from the still shocked mech. "Hey, Rattrap! Let's see what our beast modes look like now!"

And they do, giving the other modified mechs time to shake off the surprise and pull themselves together enough to see what else the new frames have to offer.

Meanwhile, the Cheetah manages to get himself airborne and slammed into one of the consoles, while the spy crashes into a pile of debris.

"This… is gonna get some used to."

When they manage to get themselves back to robot mode, Rattrap sends Tigatron and Airrazor to get Blackarachnia while Cheetor and himself get the last two members of the team back on their feet and the smallest Maximals get used to their new bodies by clearing the essential systems and starting with repairs.

Rhinox is clearly surprised, while Dinobot seems to be a mix of amused and not impressed, but both of them are unchanged, for better or for worse.

"And then we woke up and Cheetor and I were this, eh… trans… metals. And the newbies got their transformation sequences scrambled for good, but at least they can transform _and_ have some semblance of weapons."

"Would you _ever_ stop calling us that?" Rumble groans, approaching with an annoyed look on his faceplate.

"No, so you better get used to it." And his smug look vanishes as Dinobot twirls one of his wheels. "Hey!"

"A definite improvement. Although in your case it's not difficult." The Raptor answers with clear amusement, and Rattrap snarls.

"I knew we should've left you in stasis, Lizard-butt."

"Oh, name-calling. How original." Starscream cuts as he gives them a tired look, getting to the group with the other two. "Would you ever grow up and realize the problem we're in?"

"Problem?"

"Do you really believe this only happened here? That the Predacons were _spared_?" The Peregrine Falcon hisses, gesturing between himself and the larger Transmetals, and the silence that follows is ominous. "We're weak now, with the state the ship is in. And while they won't be much better, remind me, who are the guys that have people in the inside?"

Blackarachnia may be long gone, but Tarantulas and Inferno…

"The holding cells!" Cheetor exclaims, but before he can go check on them, the sound of an explosion reaches them.

"Sounds like Airrazor and Tigatron found Blackarachnia. Rattrap, take Cheetor, Starscream and Ramjet and check it out. Ravage, Rumble and Dinobot, we'll try to get Sentinel back online."

"Got it, big guy." The spy answers, breaking out in a run with the others after him, while the Rhinoceros' instructions fill the room they leave behind.

Whatever it is they were expecting, whoever, it isn't to see their teammates knocked out with no sign of their attacker.

"Rattrap to Rhinox. We've got trouble here." He calls, just in case they _really_ have trouble instead of it just being Blackarachnia getting a lucky hit in and running away as fast as possible.

"_On our way._"

And with that reassurance, they walk off the lift, weapons in hand—and weaponless Fliers at their back.

Or, at least, it doesn't look like they _are_ armed.

Yet again, neither does Cheetor.

_Please, don't let me be the only one with a gun…_

When the shooting starts, it does inside the _Axalon_.

"Jumping gyros, what's that!" The Cheetah exclaims, and, in that instant of surprise, they fall prey to the ambush they should've known was there.

When Waspinator shoots, they scatter—er… more like they get blasted in different directions.

As Rattrap gets back to his pedes only to find a really changed Megatron as his 'sparring partner', he knows today is not going to be a good day…

* * *

The fighting is… not pathetic, but close.

While the quantum surge has given them an out for their different transformations, it hasn't left the Decepticons unscathed.

Not only have their root modes been modified, but their weapons have been… _mutated_ too.

Rumble still has his pile-drivers, though they seem to double as those overgrown claws powered by the same pistons able to create earthquakes that demolish buildings, and, while none of the Fliers has tried to test their own armament yet, neither of them have their shoulder-mounted canons.

However, Starscream _knows_ he still has his null-rays. He just has no idea how to use them in root mode anymore.

Or even if they can be used in their alt.

Well, no time like the present.

Especially when his 'teammates' are being handled their own afts.

Oh, Rattrap was doing fine against that Megatron mockery turned Tyrannosaur, right until the Predacon activated his processor and went back to root mode to start shooting, and Cheetor… is being kept at bay by Waspinator.

"Ramjet, get the Wasp." He orders, and feels more than sees the Conehead dive towards his target, the sun glinting off his plating as his plumage melts into silvery metal, adding yet another layer of armor to his already thick one. "Well, that's nice." Starscream whistles, watching the other Seeker's speed increase when the air resistance is almost nullified with the change—

And winces silently as both Crested Eagle and Wasp mech slam into the _Axalon_'s hull with the force of the impact, bouncing a couple of times before dropping down into the canyon, with Cheetor having to jump after them to catch the dazed and disoriented Decepticon while making use of his pathetic flying skills.

He will have to give the Cheetah some lessons, if just to get his optics to stop hurting every time he looks at the airborne feline.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." He groans before turning his attention to where Rattrap is hiding behind a rock, his enemy's shots chipping away at his shelter quite quickly. "Here goes nothing."

With a deep intake that takes all heat of nervousness away with it when expelled, the Air Commander closes his wings and dives.

And just before the fall begins in earnest, he reaches for the modification of the coding that pressed his plumage closer to the armor before the quantum surge.

His surroundings blur too suddenly as he feels his outer armor melt from feathers to frictionless polished metal—

Until he reaches for the sensor-dampening code that locked his wings back when he had a Tetrajet alt mode, and disengages it.

The world is silent but focused, brighter than ever and clearer than he can remember, winds and air currents painting a mosaic that he hadn't seen in nine million years, but full of color instead of drowned by shades of white in a blizzard, and he knows he's broken the sound barrier and that he's falling fast, but everything seems to have stopped.

For the first time in an eternity, he can _see_.

Yet no matter how much he wants to just be and enjoy the experience, he promised he'd get the Cassettes and Ramjet back, and they won't have a chance to sit and look at the issue as long as the Predacons and that imposter calling himself Megatron are around.

So, he relinquishes his hold on time and _focuses_.

And feels his null-rays come to life, energy pooling in his chest and extending in unknown patterns all over his frame and wings and—

Deactivating his signature weapon for the very reason it may be recognized, Starscream opens his wings slightly and tilts his tail to change his trajectory so that it takes him right over Megatron.

While falling twice at the speed of sound.

The Predacon doesn't even have the time to whirl around, and the Seeker smirks triumphantly before the shockwave blasts the larger mech away, almost sending him to crash against the opposite wall of the canyon if not for him transforming and activating his propellers at the last second.

Slowing his flight as he climbs up again, he quickly turns around to keep his optics on the Predacon leader—

A flash of red and silver and a loud clanging makes him look at the lift, where what looks like the Ant mech in root mode hurriedly gets to his pedes, an arm missing and some long gouges all over his back and abdomen that are just small enough to have come from Rumble's pile-drivers, before it takes flight with a sputter of his rotor-abdomen as soon as he sees the Tyrannosaur.

"This isn't over!" The Predacon leader roars, and Starscream answers with a defiant screech that he makes sure to turn into laughter when the Ant has to cling to the larger mech as his flight systems sputter black smoke and go offline.

"Whoa, what did we miss?" Cheetor asks as he flies to Rattrap's side, with Ramjet lying on his back with a dazed expression, the Peregrine Falcon slowly gliding to the group.

"I'm not sure myself." The rodent answers while rubbing his helm, and, remembering to use his 'activation code', the Air Commander goes back to root mode as soon as he lands, helping get the other Flier on his pedes.

"Nothing especial. Just some flying."

"You got Megatron blasted away without even touching him!"

"I'm a fast Flier. That was just a burst of speed." He explains with his best humble tone, though his proud smirk easily destroys that image.

"Hey, guys! Did any of you see where that crazy red mech went? We weren't done with him!" Rumble shouts as the Maximals in the ship get out, the Least Weasel bouncing to them happily in his alt mode. "Mech, I _love_ my upgrades. And you should've seen Ravage! His tail is a sword now! It was like _slash_! Just one cut and the mech's arm fell off! It was awesome! What happened to Ramjet?"

"He slammed himself into the _Axalon_."

"So _he_ is what dented the ceiling?" Rhinox asks, incredulous, while the Cassettes break down laughing, the Rust-Spotted Cat far quieter than his younger brother thanks to a paw pressed against his muzzle. "No wonder he looks so… dizzy."

"It's the rush of battle." The Conehead answers with a wide stupid grin, and even Starscream can't keep back a snort at that.

"It was plain 'rushing'. We need you to practice flying again, unless you want to end creating craters everywhere you go."

"But I like crashing… you can feel _all_ the plating breaking that way…"

"Yes, I'm sure. You're proof enough of that." He scoffs, pocking the other Flier's helm just enough to make him lose his precarious balance to end sitting on the ground. "I could hear your _processor_ being grinded to dust."

"You were flying faster than sound, how could you hear _anything_?"

"Because I heard that _before_ breaking the sound barrier?"

"Oh."

"Are you all alright?" Rhinox asks, analyzing the Seekers with curious optics, as well as the two Transmetals, and Starscream opens his mouth—

Pain pain _pain fire burning consuming his **wings his frame boiling away his spARK—**_

With an almost audible snap, the sensor-dampener code activates, stopping the veins of solar plasma ravaging his frame from extending, but not making the agony go away.

"Don't _touch_ me!" He shrieks, feeling Rattrap try to twitch closer, and focuses on the constant rhythm of his fuel pump.

Slowly, the burning subsides.

"—think that's some kind of side-effect? The going black thingy?"

"Must be. I've never seen anything like this, or what has happened to all of you, so I can't be sure…"

"Screamer?"

The voices stop.

"Don't call me that, Rumble."

"Are you alright?"

"Just paying the price of flying at Mach 2 with unlocked wings after going through a reformatting."

"… How are you still functioning?" Ramjet whispers, dumbstruck, and looking kind of sick.

"I'm just that good."

"You started going black."

"I… what?"

"You started going _black_. It looked like you were… I don't know. Getting scorched. _Fusion blast_ scorched. Just… from the inside out." Rumble explains, and for the first time in a long while, the Flier realizes just how young the Cassettes really are.

"Then I will have to try to avoid a repeat." He answers simply, resting a servo on the smaller mech's helm to give it a pat, and earning a scowl for his troubles.

"It's not funny!" The Least Weasel roars, pushing the servo away, fear clear on his trembling frame.

Startled at the over-emotional response, the Air Commander turns to Ravage, only to stiffen as he sees the Rust-Spotted Cat's ears pressed flat against his helm in an echo of his brother.

They really were worried about him.

_You owe me one, Soundwave._

"Beast mode." He whispers, activating his transformation at the same time, and opens his wings wide once he's back in alt mode.

Rumble is the first to burrow in his feathery chest, but the other Cassette isn't too far.

He doesn't lay down, his battle protocols still very much active from the last confrontation and the fact that their base of operations has been wrecked, but he fluffs his plumage and nuzzles the smaller Decepticons under the cover of a wing, Ramjet leaning against his opposite side, before the echo of thunder makes them all turn to the brewing storm, Megatron a barely visible silhouette against them, and just because of the white energy of his propellers.

"Well, the Beast Wars have suddenly become a lot weirder." Rattrap whistles, though they can hear the tension in his voice.

A couple of nanokliks later, they grab Tigatron and Airrazor and go back to the ship.

There's a lot of work to do, and Starscream knows it's not just on the _Axalon_.

He has a time-space continuum to check on.

* * *

**AN:** Yes, I did that. No, I wasn't planning to, but my stories like to take lives of their own, and thus we have a bunch of Decepticons that, instead of making the Maximals think they were affected by the quantum surge as a means of explaining the differences between them, were _really_ affected by the quantum surge. Granted, I realize I haven't described the original root modes, so let me just say that the changes have been minimal, at least aesthetically, but there _have_ been changes.

And I'm going to exploit them and have fun while doing so. If you thought the Decepticons were having a bad time before, when it was just the issue of 'is this our future?', you better get your seatbelts on and the first aid kit ready, because season 2 is going to be a rough ride *insert evil grin and low eerie chuckling* Want a clue? Three words: Season 2 Dinobot.

I'll leave you to that.

And now, because I know I've got your interest picked, is when I go get a shield to hide behind and say this: There won't be another update until after the holidays, most likely, meaning until the 10th of January, more or less. Sorry about that, but I sincerely doubt I'd be able to get enough writing time to get a chapter ready before then.

Oh, and who knows where I got the title of this chapter? XP

That said, happy holidays!

**Update:** 'Cause I tend to forget headcanon doesn't mean canon XP Here's my reasoning about Ravage's root mode:

Ravage's root mode is his Panther/Rust-Spotted Cat mode, while his alt mode is his cassette mode. However, while only Triple Changers can have more than two alt modes, that doesn't mean a normal mech can't have 'variants' of their root mode. In Ravage's (and other 'beastformers') case, that means that his alt mode is his quadruped cat mode, but that he has a variant in which he stands on his back legs and his paws 'extend' into fingers (curl your fingers but don't press them against the palm and you'll find your hand looks like a paw, that's what I mean with Ravage). In my headcanon, these 'natural beastformers' don't have real beaks/snouts, they're additions, like a facemask, which is why Ravage doesn't have a snout in his new alt mode.


	8. Change of Rules

"You saw the moon?" He asks, voice almost too soft, seeking a confirmation he doesn't need but he hopes doesn't come, for that would mean he has to _believe_.

"Yes! One moon now. Planet changed. And that means—"

"_Earth_." He finishes with the same low rumbling, cutting the other Predacon's too proud know-it-all tone.

If even _Waspinator_ can see it, there's no denying it now.

"It means Megatron was right!" He adds as he lets the bug fall, something like excitement coursing through his wires as he approaches the twirling golden artifacts. "And the disks—"

"Give record of the future!" The green mech cuts him that time, voice an annoying singsong tone that he can't find it in himself to care about. "The ultimate power."

And truer words have never been spoken…

Waspinator is the one to suggest them teaming up, probably encouraged by his lack of aggression, and he readily agrees—just to throw him to the force-field around the disks for the defenses to become distracted long enough.

The flat golden metal feels cold in his claws, and he can't seem to recall if it was like that before, or if it's because of his systems running hot with the looming danger of his position.

"Hey, how did you—You!"

Startled by the voice and berating himself from allowing himself to get distracted enough not to hear her coming, Dinobot whirls around—

His spark stops pulsing.

Because that's Blackarachnia in the corridor, with some kind of curled up vibrant purple and black thing at her feet, along the cube of parts Waspinator has been turned into by the defenses, but there's another thing in front of her, a tiny creature covered by raised black fur and hissing menacingly, ears pressed back.

Ravage.

Using her own surprise at seeing the Predacon-turncoat, the feline rushes away from the Spider and to his supposedly fellow Maximal, and the Raptor can only pepper the entrance with his optic lasers, not caring about aiming, before using the distraction to shoot a hole into one of the walls and run away, the smaller mech hot on his pedes even though he can't hear him.

"What are you _doing_ here?!" He roars as soon as they get outside, stopping just long enough to transform and let the Cat climb to his back, before speeding away.

"What does it look like? I was following you, of course!"

"Why?!"

"Because I wanted to know what you were up to." And the firmness, the security that he knew Dinobot had been planning something, even before his presence in the _Darksyde_ and the words he surely heard confirmed it, make the Predacon's Energon freeze in his lines.

They stay silent after that, the larger mech not knowing how to respond and the smaller simply letting him think.

He only slows down when they get to the base of a certain mountain approximately halfway between the faction territories, but he keeps moving, climbing to its flattened top, sharp rocks rising to the sky like claws, lightning and the full moon illuminating the area despite the clouds.

Only then does he stop, and, when Ravage jumps to the ground, transforms.

The Cat observes him with bright yellow eyes glowing under the moonlight, but doesn't say anything. Just sits there, tail curling around his paws, and looks at him.

It only takes some nanokliks for the silence to become too much.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" His voice is as soft as back in the _Darksyde_, and he takes a moment to wonder how a newly awakened tiny Maximal can make him feel like _he_ is the newspark that has been caught with a servo in the rust sticks' jar.

No answer, just unblinking yellow eyes fixed on his red ones, and he can't seem to find the strength to look away.

"I went to the Predacon ship without telling anyone, I stole the relics that have the very future written on them, I admitted to Megatron being _right_!"

Nothing.

Breathing heavy, he takes a step back and finally manages to look away, helm bowing as he stares at the ground.

"These disks I hold… They are either a record of what will be… or only of what _may_. If the future is indeed immutably foretold, then my demise is but moments from the confirmation, and I—I could not live if not the master of my fate." His voice lowers, the despair that made his words stumble clear in it, and he has to take a moment to get rid of it. "But! _If_ the future can be changed… if these disks record merely one path of all the myriad ways the cosmos might conform…" And his voice grows soft once more as he stares at the double reflection on polished gold, before he turns to observe his thoughts, flashing before him. "Then, their power is infinite. And yet, still limited… for they could be used but once." Focusing back on the disks, he allows himself to frown, although it is hard to say whether it is at the processor-ache or at the spark-wrenching despair caused by his lack of knowledge. "And in that change be rendered fiction forever more."

Ravage tenses, ears pressing back against his head and fur rising as realization makes his optics widen.

For an uncounted amount of time, they just stare at each other, seeing the fear, the uncertainty, the horror…

"I could destroy them!" He finally shouts, claws clenching their grip on the disks as he glares down at them with glowing green optics—

But deflates almost as quickly, before turning to look at the Cat.

The smaller mech just stares, despair all his optics convey, and he knows he won't speak.

This is Dinobot's decision, and no else's.

And Ravage knows that… and accepts it.

Although that glimmer of hope… is it there in answer to them having obtained such powerful items, or because they have the chance to destroy them?

He doesn't know.

He _doesn't know_.

And that is what makes him decide.

"I won't. It would be a coward's answer." He whispers, glaring at the disks once more before allowing the boost of determination his choice has brought help him look at the Cat again.

Ears straight, fur smothered down, tail around his paws and eyes no longer wide open.

In that yellow gaze, paler than the dark gold of the relics in his claws and impossibly warmer, all he sees is approval.

"I will know the truth instead. Then, it will be either them… or me, that face oblivion." He adds, a promise clear in his voice and stance, and Ravage nods.

"'Till then?" The Maximal asks, voice smooth and deep and merely curious, and Dinobot turns to observe his surroundings—

There.

With a couple long steps, he gets to the intended rock and kneels down to rest one disk on the ground to lift the middle-sized boulder with his freed servo, not hesitating as he throws the other under the shadow of the stone before letting the rock fall back to its place.

An instant later, the Cat appears at his side, simply observing the unremarkable boulder.

"I want to know too." Slowly, the Predacon looks to his small companion, who takes a moment more before meeting his gaze. "I will keep quiet. This once."

"Thank—"

"Don't." The tiny mech hisses, eyes narrowing. "I _will_ stay silent. But if asked, I _will_ answer."

And… that is more than he could have hoped for, so the warrior nods, letting out a silent shuddering sigh.

"May I ask which questions would result in… explaining _this_?" He picks up the remaining disk and simply stares at his reflection, knowing the other will understand what he means.

"Very specific ones. We are, after all, in a precarious position. We need to look for the fallen pods, but doing so alone poses risks." Ravage answers nonchalantly, and the Predacon turns to him in surprise. "It was unfortunate that we did not find any in our venture, but that means there were none for Megatron to recover in these quadrants, so it seems the outing hasn't been a complete loss."

"I like how you think." He purrs, transforming back to beast mode and leaning down to let the Cat climb to his back once more.

"Same here. Most of the time, anyway." And he can feel a paw scratch a patch of hardened mud, the disgust clear in the smaller mech's voice.

Dinobot can only chuckle.

* * *

"Journey well, friends. You are part of this planet, let its heart guide your own."

Starscream shudders in disgust and Rattrap gives him an answering grimace that tells him he feels the same.

"Be careful, Big Cat." Cheetor whispers, and whether he's talking into a comm or to himself is something only he knows.

"You both going soft in the circuits or what?" The rodent finally groans, and the Seeker grins as the Maximal leans over the pod to tap its cover. "Come on, why are we letting this guy snooze? Let's crack the egg and say hello."

"Crude, but he has a point." The Decepticon adds as he shifts his weight to one leg, uncrossing his arms in preparation for whatever may happen.

"It's a blank. A protoform without a spark." Rhinox answers, and Rattrap groans.

Cursing their luck, Starscream just helps tie the pod to the Rhinoceros and transforms to make their way to the ship, flying by Cheetor's side as he helps the feline perfect his new ability.

He may not want to deal with more of the large Autobot descendants, but he knows they need the numbers, especially now that Tigatron and Airrazor are going on their vacation trip.

Yes, the Decepticons are here and are sure to be far more experienced fighters than whoever they recover, but the size and brute power difference level the odds.

Ravage and Rumble got lucky against Inferno, seeing how no Predacon knew of their existence and the fact the Ant was focused on Dinobot, but they have lost that advantage now. And despite the new high-speed mode, Starscream knows he can't count only on it, especially because his null-rays are out of the question.

It won't be worth anything for him to be able to outmaneuver and out-fly their enemies if the Maximals, and consequently the Decepticons' access to tools and resources, get taken out.

… At least Cheetor is willing to learn, even if he's way too excitable for his own good.

Reminds him a bit of Skywarp, back at the War Academy…

He shakes the thought away and brings his attention back to his 'student', staying outside some more when they arrive at the ship to keep practicing, before they both get inside to refuel.

And then, Rumble sends him a message to get to the command center ASAP.

Curious, and with the Cheetah still following like a puppy, he obeys, and walks into a weird scene.

The table-like contraption Rhinox has been working on since the quantum surge, once the defense system was back online and he was convinced the Decepticons, minus Ramjet, were good enough to help Rattrap deal with the rest of damage, is in the middle of the room, with the Rhinoceros on it and the rodent leaning over what looks like a pod's lid covering the larger mech's chest and head.

Ramjet is in his post on monitor duty, though staring at the spectacle instead of the screens, while the Cassette is sitting on the console, amusement on his face but ears pulled back in wariness.

"—might need your core consciousness right here?!" The Rat screams, voice deflating before he lies his helm on the glass with a tired and slightly desperate sigh. "What are you looking at?" He deadpans when he sees the newcomers, though he straightens before they get the chance to speak. "Get your shiny new butts skyward and see if you can find Chopperface before the Preds do."

"You mean fly?" The other Maximal questions hopefully, and, not waiting for an answer, clasps a hand around Starscream's arm and tugs him into the lift with a happy cry.

"Let me go, you spotted goofball!" He scowls, wrestling his limb free, but not making a move to return inside when the platform touches the ground.

"But we're going flying again! Can you teach me how to make those awesome shockwaves now? Please?"

"No, no, and no matter how many times you ask, _no_. You can barely fly at normal speeds, no way am I letting you go mach. Beast mode." He snarls, coordinating his transformation with his last words, and flapping off the ground as soon as he can. "Now, let's see if you can take off _without_ running."

"Heh, easy!" The Cheetah answers, changing himself—

And properly slamming into the ground snout first as he gets his jets at maximum burn with the angle pointing them down.

"What did I do to deserve this." The Decepticon moans, shaking his helm, before flapping higher and away from the _Axalon_. "Just get on the air, no matter how. We've got work to do." He calls, and soon enough has the Maximal at his side, though slightly behind him.

He sends Ravage a brief message, asking where they are and if there's something they need to worry about, and gets an almost immediate reply of _not now!_

Meaning, time to stall.

So, he lets the wind carry him, picking a random direction and tuning out Cheetor's blabbering much like he does Skywarp's while trying to push away the pang of pain and longing from the inactive Trine bond.

Their flight soon takes them into Predacon territory and the charged clouds, so they lower their altitude to avoid being the target of a stray lightning bolt—

And end up with plasma shots instead.

"Jumping gyros!" Cheetor exclaims, and Starscream quickly locates their attackers—

And lets out a loud curse.

"There's too many of them!" He exclaims, optics narrowing with hate at the sight of the imposter Megatron with the Ant and two unknown mechs, one of them with wings. "Fall back!" He orders, his own words stinging like an acid burn, but he knows he has no choice, not while the clumsy and inexperienced Maximal is here, for Inferno has been flying far longer than he and, if those golden appendages are anything to go by, the new Predacon has the protocols the feline lacks.

And the Tyrannosaur has the firepower to get them both down with a single shot.

So, for now, the best they can do is return to base—and pick the Predacons one by one as the difference in speed breaks their group.

They aren't Seekers, they don't know there's a reason it's better to go in threes instead of have every Flier on their own.

And Starscream is more than willing to use that.

As expected, the winged Predacon knows what he's doing, catching up quickly and—what the _Pit_ is he supposed to be?

"We're leading a Pred parade!" Cheetor exclaims after a look back, obviously spotting the Flier and the other two behind him, the Ant being weighted down by the teal and yellow mech on his back but unwilling to stay behind. "Hey, think we could lose them there?"

A canyon, tall spires of rock rising from the dry riverbed.

The Decepticon smirks, glad to have forced the Maximal through as many obstacle courses as he's done.

"Lead them there and remember to keep your optics forward, I'll deal with the stragglers."

"But you have no weap—hey!"

He's no longer listening, wings having snapped wide to stop him short, the wolf-eagle hybrid rushing past his falling frame with a startled look—and is that worry?—but not stopping in his pursuit, while Cheetor dives to the canyon.

"Inferno, get the cat! This one is mine!"

Oh, joy, he gets to play with the wannabe Megatron.

Repositioning himself to a more fluid dive, Starscream sees the flash of red and yellow pass overhead as the two mechs bicker, but quickly focuses on the powerhouse rushing to him, purple and brown metal shifting as he changes to root mode, the propellers now on his back keeping him airborne while the tail-turned-arm glows—

With a graceful spin, the Seeker avoids the shots before spreading his wings to cut his fall, easily maneuvering in a spiral around the Predacon, air sizzling around him as he 'barely' avoids the plasma projectiles, exaggerated grimace of concentration on his face while in truth his spark is soaring at the rush and the memories of dancing through asteroid rings and geysers of lava in forming planets.

Good times, those…

Before a certain blizzard in a blue mud-ball that he'd rather not dwell in now.

"Magnificent, yes. Far better than the records made you to be."

Gears freeze for an instant, only half a nanoklik, but it's half a nanoklik too long.

The shot he'd been about to avoid smashes into a wing, and he barely stifles a pained shriek as he rolls in midair, regaining his balance with difficulty and feeling his whole side be stabbed with each flap.

More shots, more sharp turns and lances of fire up his damaged wing with even the tiniest movement, and the next gets the tail spot on, organic-looking feathers burning with an acrid smell.

The volley of plasma that follows goes obviously wide, but it's still close enough that the Seeker has no option but let himself be herded to the ground, a nasty smile on the Predacon leader's faceplate as his pedes touch the scorched and windswept plains.

"Yes, _far_ better." Feeling chilled at the positively giddy and possessive tone, the Flier hides a shudder by transforming, unable to keep his pained yelp silent as he presses his damaged servo against his chest plates.

Which, taking into account he can't use his null-rays, leaves him with just one set of three clawed dactyls to deal with the thick-plated behemoth.

Slag.

"My apologies for that, but I needed to get you to land somehow. I've been waiting eagerly for a chance to talk with you, Starscream."

_Not good, not good!_

That mech, whoever he is, talks like a Senator, and the only Senator that didn't hate his internals with burning passion was torn apart by his fellows so that they could keep their position.

And he knows the Flier's designation.

It means nothing, of course it doesn't, after all, Starscream himself told it to Terrosaur—who has to have gotten himself deactivated, since he hasn't seen the cocky fool since that first time—and Inferno, so it would have been reported along with his existence.

But something tells him that Megatron isn't thinking of 'Starscream the Maximal' when he speaks that designation.

"And you would be?" He asks as calmly as he can manage, though the snarl on his faceplates is easily echoed in his voice.

"Of course, where are my manners? I am Megatron, leader of the Predacons."

The Seeker snorts, an obvious depreciating sound.

"No, seriously now."

"I'm not joking."

"Neither am I."

Instead of growing angry or insulted, the Tyrannosaur smiles.

A pleased and… _oily_ gesture, dark and gluey as tar, and no matter how much he tries, the Flier finds himself unable to look away or even take a step back as the other approaches.

It's not the smile of 'the cat that caught the canary', oh, no. This one is far _worse_.

"I am not who you think." He finally manages, the spell broken by something crunching under the larger mech's pedes, and takes some hasty steps away while still cradling his servo to his chest plate, slightly hunched down around it.

The Predacon stops, but the deranged smile only widens, helm tilting slightly downward so he can better meet the smaller mech's gaze, something that makes the red light from his optics magnify the effect of his _possessive_ expression, and Starscream has to almost literally shut down his motor controls to keep his apprehensive shiver from being seen and for his fear not to be reflected on his faceplate.

"And who would that be?"

He's playing with him.

The accursed mockery of his leader is _toying _him. _Him_, Starscream, Second in Command and Air Commander of the Decepticons!

All wariness, fear and worry burn away to fuel his anger.

"The treacherous and back-stabbing slag-heap that shares my designation. I am _not_ your Starscream."

"Mine? Why, is that an _offer_?" The Tyrannosaur purrs, and the Seeker wants to soak his processor in _acid_, his whole frame shuddering in disgust as that deep and oily voice rolls over him like the honey Skywarp dropped on him that one time, but far darker.

Like stale Energon dripping from frames ripped to pieces.

Impossibly bright optics in the dark, a pile of grayed out husks, tendrils of dead metal curling over themselves—

He's Starscream.

He's dealt with worse than an alternate dimension's big and heavily-armed psychopath with delusions of grandeur and survived.

When the fake Megatron takes a step closer, the Flier stands his ground, straightening and letting his servos fall to his sides.

And this time, he's the one to smirk menacingly as the Predacon falters at his unexpected response to him approaching.

"Never. However, I _do_ have an offer to extend to you."

"Which would be…"

"Surrender, of course."

Megatron answers with a bark of laughter, taking the last couple steps to be close enough to touch the smaller mech if he extends his arm.

Which is something he does, slowly, letting Starscream see it come closer to his faceplate.

"To the Maximals? My, and why would I do that?"

"Not to the Maximals." He lets out calmly, though his clawed servo snaps up to dig sharp dactyls into the wrist joint just before the Predacon's blunt ones touch his faceplate, causing the larger mech to grimace. "But to a slow and painful deactivation."

And Starscream _moves_.

Ground or sky, it doesn't matter when it comes to speed, for his enemy is too close to be able to react when the smaller mech slides past his arm, jumps—

And burrows the powerful talons of his pedes into the seam between neck cabling and chest armor.

Megatron roars in pain, arm and pincer-like tail-tip reaching up to dislodge the Flier, but the Decepticon has been here before, when Tarantulas and Blackarachnia infiltrated the _Axalon_, so he has already pushed away from the larger mech before he can manage to even touch him, somersaulting back over his arms and transforming before he touches the ground, a couple of strong flaps seeing him almost far enough to miss the clanging of the Predacon's body slamming to the ground from his brief assault.

However, he's not out of reach of the irate roar that follows a nanoklik later.

His only reaction is to smirk.

Starscream, 1. Creepy Fake-a-tron, 0.

* * *

**AN:** Surpise update! I was having too much fun to stop writing, and since I got everything ready for my journey before I thought I would, I decided to not leave you waiting for this. ^^

I'm enjoying this too much. *purr* It's actually quite interesting to see how adding the Decepticons to the mix changes things without actually changing them. Dinobot's monologue about the Golden Disks is practically identical to the original, yet the meaning behind it has changed radically just by Ravage being there to listen (at least how I see it). I really want to keep writing to see how things will change and develop.

And, finally, the long awaited meeting between Starscream and Megatron. It gave me the creeps to write it, and I swear I was sitting at the edge of my seat shaking with tension as I re-read it to check for typos. I hope you readers enjoy it as much as I did.

Oh, and, once more, the 'good' Senator mentioned here is from IDW.

Now, let's see if I can get Optimus back next chapter so we can move to other things... As always, requests and missing scenes are more than welcome.**  
**

**Skywinder:** Believe it or not, your review of chapter 3 gave me the idea about how to end this fic, so a really big thanks *bow* As things are, though, I believe you weren't far from the truth. Maybe I'll write another chapter from the 'present time' after I'm done with _Coming of the Fuzors_.


	9. Coming of the Dawn

He has to be grateful Ravage is with him. He isn't sure he would've been able to hide the Golden Disk if he was on his own, especially with the high-strung defenses and the nervous and—for one who knows how to recognize such things—scared and freaked out Rattrap.

The fact that he receives him with a happy—_happy_—cry of his name is more than enough sign, though he does calm down almost immediately.

"Where've you been? Out saving the universe or something?"

Oh, the irony…

Yes, he's lucky Ravage is with him and helping out, because that means he isn't here in this precise moment.

The more he can shield the younger Maximal from what they have to deal with now, the better.

"Possibly… Yes." He answers, making sure not to look too serious or mocking, as he gives the weapons' rack the order to lower, hiding the Rodent from sight. "Now, _what_ is the emergency?"

"Oh, well, nothing much." The Vermin lets out with a clearly fake nonchalant tone, and he listens with just half an audial, checking the armament and making sure that the smaller weapons are in order. "Let's see. Rhinox is off chasing comets with his mind, Cheetor is bringing a squad of Preds on to play, Ramjet and Rumble are making inventory of the many unfixable damages to the ship, Ravage is missing, Starscream is facing Megatron on his own, and, one more flimsy detail, if we get hit, Big Green there goes permanently offline."

… Slag.

He should've been here sooner. But, at least, he's here now, and armed.

"Well, then… We must take the fight to the enemy." He answers, gesturing to the lift with a gun as the rack vanishes up the ceiling again, before throwing the weapon to the Maximal.

"Mech, I am _so_ going to enjoy saving Screamer's aft." A voice chuckles from the corridor, and there, in robot mode, are a dangerously grinning Rumble, a battle-ready Ramjet and a serious Ravage, no sign of their outing on the last.

"And where were _you_?" Rattrap asks, pointing, and the smaller Maximal gives him a deadpanned look.

"Out with Dinobot."

"Of. _Course_. Next time, leave a post on the fridge or something!" The Rodent snarls, stomping to the lift. "Let's go!"

The Predacon transforms with some difficulty after the Vermin takes off, but Ramjet taking some of the weapons in his talons and the smaller two Maximals securing some more once they're on his back allow him to do so, and thus to follow after the Transmetal faster.

And in complete silence, all of them focused on the fight.

They find Cheetor in a dried out river bed, kneeling behind a rock, but, before they can ask, a shadow covers them an instant before Starscream lands and transforms at their side, a wing and the tail blackened.

"Aw, I wanted you to owe me a favor…" Rumble moans, jumping to the ground and checking the small guns Dinobot procured for him and Ravage.

"It'll take far more than a psycho to get rid of me." The Flier smirks, talons lifting just the necessary bit for the sun to reflect on the Energon staining them.

"Did you kill Megatron?" The Cheetah asks in awe, but the roaring of engines gives him his answer.

Followed by Inferno, who is carrying a yellow and teal mech on his back, and a wolf-eagle hybrid, Megatron lands and transforms, his chest plates stained blue.

"You got him on the _neck_?!"

"Is it so obvious?" The Peregrine Falcon replies cockily, accepting the gun Dinobot hands him before wiping the smirk off his faceplate to examine it. "Glitch was overconfident. Worst mistake a leader can make."

"Which is why all good leaders need a treacherous Second in Com—Ouch!" Ramjet's grin is also quickly vanquished, though this time by Starscream slapping the back of his helm. "Alright, focus on the situation at hand, I get it."

"So, what's the plan?"

It's only when he realizes no one is answering that the Predacon notices it's _him_ they're looking at, the four newbies patiently and attentively and Rattrap and Cheetor in confusion and surprise.

"What?"

"The plan. What is it?" The Falcon repeats, and Dinobot has to reboot his optics to make sure it isn't a trick of his sensors.

"Why are you asking _him_?" The Rodent asks, dumbfounded, gesturing to the larger mech. "He's a _Pred_!"

"Precisely. Who would better know our foes and their strategies than him? Plus, he's a warrior." Starscream points out, and the Predacon feels strangely touched and proud of the small Maximals.

"Oh, _come on_!"

"Well, he _does_ know how they work." Cheetor adds, and Rattrap finally relents with a long sigh. "Huh, guys?"

A look is more than they need.

That purple, black and orange thing can only be Tarantulas, seeing that Blackarachnia kept his form, but transmetalized, and the one driving behind him is a Transmetal Scorponok, dark blue and looking more like the crane he originally was than a scorpion, with Waspinator and a Transmetal Terrorsaur, black color scheme and some kind of engines at the bottom of his body and rotors near the base of his wings, flying over them.

"Ah, of course. We weren't outnumbered enough." The Weasel grumbles, looking over their new enemies with the same sharpness the wayward Predacon himself does.

"That tactical information can come any time now."

"I don't know anything about the new two—"

"The Flier has the needed coding to honor his frame type. I've seen the marks in the canyon, so good work, Cheetor—" The young Maximal preens at the praise, but the Falcon doesn't seem to notice or tactfully ignores him. "—but out here, if he takes to the air, leave him to Ramjet and I, as well as Waspinator and Terrorsaur."

"But I can fly too!"

"You don't have the coding or the experience. Anything that gets airborne is ours, _you_ stay here." The Cheetah lowers his head, properly chastised though obviously not happy with the orders. "Tell us about Terrorsaur."

"Blasters and high-powered cannons. Scorponok can shoot missiles from his pincers, and his tail can inject Cybervenom. However, with them being Transmetals…"

"Watch out, we get it."

"I still want to repay that 'chick' comment." Ramjet hisses, crest fanning open menacingly.

"All in due time. Now, the plan?" And, once more, all optics are on Dinobot.

"We can't let them get to the _Axalon_. And if any of you dares get themselves deactivated—"

"Mute it, _Maximal_." Starscream snorts, though there's a darkness in his optics as he analyzes their enemies that would have made the Predacon shiver if he wasn't as focused in the present. "We have a mission to take care of, no one's going to deactivate."

And then, the shooting starts.

It becomes clear soon enough that not only are they outnumbered, but also outgunned.

They're all fairly good shots—minus Cheetor, but the kid still has time to learn… or, well, he's planning on giving him such a chance—even the smaller four—_especially_ the smaller four, and isn't that something to ponder if there is a later time to do so—but the Predacons are too, and there's _a lot_ more of them.

But maybe…

"We need to flank them. Starscream, do you think you and Ramjet could fly to assault them from the air?"

"Watch and—"

"Wait! There's just one teensy little _problem_…" Rattrap cuts, taking a stone and throwing it up.

When it falls, it's half its previous size and blackened.

"Ramjet, I'll draw their fire. Take off three nanokliks after me." The Peregrine Falcon orders anyway, transforming—and fusing his plumage into frictionless platinum.

"What are you going to do?!"

"A mech can hope, can he not?" The Flier answers with a smirk—and takes off with two flaps, shots burning the air behind his still blackened tail, but none hitting him.

In the lull caused by Starscream's take off distracting the Predacons, Ramjet takes to the air too, though staying low to go unnoticed as the others peek over their rocky shelter to shoot at their enemies, who fall down with startled squeaks at the sudden blaster fire.

"Who knew, sometimes hopes become reality." Rumble snickers, peeking from the side and managing to almost tear the Cobra head out of the new Predacon's shoulder socket.

"Indeed."

Next he looks up, Dinobot can see Megatron arguing with the new Flier—and Waspinator and Terrorsaur taking off after the airborne Maximals.

However, nothing good lasts long, even if it's just a stalemate.

"Incoming!" Ravage shouts, but the eagle-wolf hybrid just flies over them—and towards the _Axalon_.

"They've found out our strategy!" The Predacon hisses, but, before he can say more, a flash of silver shoots overhead. "What the—"

The white Flier barely avoids it, but, as it turns, Dinobot realizes what it is.

"Go Screamer!" Rumble shouts, before going down with a squeak to avoid a shot.

Their happiness is short lived, however, because Terrorsaur is soon on the small Maximal's tail, and a look shows Ramjet busy with Inferno and Waspinator.

"We've got to stop them from reaching the base!" Cheetor exclaims, all of them observing the dogfight growing farther from them but closer to the crashed ship.

"You're the sky-cat, move up! We'll be right behind you." Rattrap orders, tapping the younger mech's chest.

"I need a running start!"

"Someone throw him to the air!" Rumble _roars_ and Dinobot takes the Maximal and does precisely that while the other three provide cover fire.

After a nanoklik in which it seems the Cheetah is just going to fall down again, he rights himself and takes off, and the other two transform, with Ravage hopping on Dinobot's back and Rumble on Rattrap's to follow after him, Ramjet shadowing them as he finally gets rid of the other two Fliers by, bizarrely enough, crashing into them and leaving them stunned or knocked out.

"Fly ahead!" The Cat calls, and, without losing a beat, the Crested Eagle speeds away.

One good shot from his rider sees Tarantulas squashed under a good-sized boulder, and the Raptor chuckles with dark amusement that is echoed by the smaller Maximal.

"Next target?"

Megatron himself, judging by the blast that almost blows Dinobot's head off his neck.

And the other two aren't having any better luck, if Inferno's crazy laughter and Rumble's curses are anything to go by.

After some close calls, the Predacon manages to catch from the corner of his optic one of his former leader's rotors exploding—and his skewered flight course sends him straight into the Ant, who seems to have suffered the same problem.

"Nice shooting, bro!" The Weasel exclaims as the warrior pulls next to Rattrap, and they exchange a look while the smaller two recharge their weapons.

Bro. Brother. Friendly or literal?

_Yet something else to ask about._

They're almost at the _Axalon_ when they see the hybrid go down, but Starscream doesn't stop, Terrorsaur still after him, though Cheetor lowers to the crash site with Ramjet.

When they get there, it is to see the unknown mech on robot mode on his back, with a gun and the Cheetah's hatchet-tail trailed on him.

"Hey, Cloud Kitty. We would've been here sooner if Dinobutt wasn't such a _turtle_."

"You weren't especially fast yourself." He returns with a snarl, transforming as soon as the smaller Maximal is off him.

"So… get on with it. Destroy me." The strange Predacon says, ears lowering, and Dinobot hesitates.

Any other time before, he wouldn't have done so, he'd probably have lifted his sword and chopped the helm off the neck struts, but now…

He can feel Ramjet, Rumble and Ravage looking at him, for they have made it clear they consider him the leader of this mission, and that only makes his resolve waver even more.

What if he's right? What if—

"Nah." Cheetor and Rattrap answer in unison, and the Predacon tenses at the hand on his arm, not knowing when he reached for his sword, but glad that he didn't do more than clasp the handle.

He has questions unanswered, and such an action as deactivating the hybrid could've been… _disastrous_, in these circumstances.

"It's not what Optimus would've done."

Though those words make him triple-think his decision.

"Maximal sentiment." He grumbles, lowering his arm and leaving his weapon on his back. "I must have been _defective_ to defect."

"I don't think so." Ravage whispers, though he's close enough that Dinobot can hear him clearly. "Seeing how the rest of Predacons are, I wouldn't want to join them either. Plus, you haven't defected, just allied yourself with the other group."

... And if that doesn't answer some of those conflictive questions—

A punch to the side brings him back to the situation at servo, and though he barely manages to catch 'Bowser' and 'CR Chamber', he knows what is wanted of him as soon as Rattrap finishes the sentence with a gesture to their prisoner.

"I repeat myself." He grumbles, catching the hybrid's arm and hauling him upwards. "Defective."

That he catches Rumble snickering as he brings the startled and confused Predacon inside doesn't make him happier, but having Rhinox back does—for the brief moments of time before the ship starts shaking again and the shields begin to fail.

Seeing Starscream back on the ground with them, albeit as blackened, scratched and dented as the rest, is a brief but intense joy.

However, that also means Terrorsaur is—ah, no. He isn't back with the rest of Predacons.

One quick questioning look is simply answered by a sharp smirk and a wave of Energon-stained sharp dactyls, and Dinobot grins in kind and hands one of the guns he still keeps on himself that has some energy left.

The Flier can obviously take care of himself in hand to hand combat, even against Megatron, but they won't have a lot of chances to engage in such ways of fighting now, so, seeing that the smaller Maximal seems to have lost his weapon, the one he accepts with a grateful nod will be sorely needed.

Inevitably, the shields fail.

The shooting starts anew—but finishes a lot sooner as their abused weapons give up, Rhinox's machineguns the only thing still working, before they are blasted from his servos.

And then, the Predacons' attention turns to their shelter, and shards of rock start flying.

Sooner than they would have liked, they find themselves out in the open.

Dinobot grabs his sword and rushes forward with a roar, hearing the shifting of transformation accompanied by a screech behind him that he knows belongs to the Fliers—

But he's easily pushed back, the missile on his middle almost blowing the raptor head to smithereens, and he knows the two Maximals haven't managed to take off if their pained yelps along the rest of his comrades' are anything to go by.

So, he does the only thing he can.

He rolls around and curls around the tiny mechs, grimacing at the pain on his back.

It seems too long until the shooting stops, but, fortunately, he still functions.

One would say 'unfortunately', but if he'd deactivated, Dinobot wouldn't have been able to see Starscream uncurl with a murderous snarl, Ravage slithering to see to the Predacon's scorched chest as Rumble transforms his arms to enormous claws and Ramjet rotates his wings to ensure their functionality.

They may be tiny, but a small hope is better than none.

So, despite hearing the other Maximals' despair and the approaching pede-steps of their would-be executors, the warrior doesn't move, shielding their last defenders from view.

Though he does give Ravage a small smirk when he looks up at him with worry.

As soon as they are out on the offensive, Dinobot will jump to cover them, as he's doing now.

The Cat relaxes with a nod, going back to sealing ruptured Energon lines, ears twitching at the louder steps—

All sound stops.

"Finish it." Megatron orders, and the tiny Maximals tense—

An explosion makes his audials fritz, but Dinobot doesn't feel it.

Instead, turned around from their enemies as he is, he sees its origin point.

And his optics widen and his mouth falls open in surprise and disbelief.

"Big Bot?" Cheetor questions, almost speechless, and, despite not recognizing the Transmetal frame, there are enough clues to make the Predacon agree with him.

"Yes. It worked!" Rhinox lets out, breathless, and that's the last confirmation he needs.

"_Primal_?" Megatron gawks, even though he can't see him do so, before snarling. "Destroy him!"

But Optimus pulls the reinforced shield he's brought with him out, and all efforts are futile.

He can't hear what the Gorilla says due to the distance, but he's sure it's something along the lines of 'my turn', because the next he does is pull some kind of machine from his back to rest it on his shoulders and start shooting.

"Oh, right!" Rattrap exclaims happily as the Predacons run to cover, and, slowly, Dinobot sits up, one of his arms sparking dangerously as it threatens to fall off.

"Go, Big Bot!" Cheetor adds, and even the warrior lets a satisfied smirk on his faceplate.

"Ramjet, I'm going to show our guests to the door. Care to join me?" Starscream asks innocently, and the Crested Eagle almost shivers in anticipation.

"Of course!"

"But… you're _weaponless_." Dinobot points out, turning away from Optimus' transformation and take off.

"Are you sure?" The Falcon returns, lifting a clawed servo, and the Predacon snorts.

"You know Terrorsaur is still out there, don't you?"

"And I also know he won't be doing much flying with just one wing."

"That's our Screamer." Rumble snickers, yelping at a beak snapping too close to his head, before the Fliers take off. "Sheesh, you'd think he'd already be used to being called that."

"He wouldn't be Starscream if he was." Ravage points out, turning his attention to the larger mech's arm. "Nasty. I don't know if there's anything I can do here, I'm no Medic."

"Worry not. The CR Chambers can take care of it." He answers, following the shapes of the feathered Maximals, for Optimus and Megatron have landed.

He barely manages to catch a flash of light before one of said shapes seemingly disappears, but the rumbled shot that reaches them after that tells them where to, along two dark shapes going flying with a cloud of dust.

"Aw, I really want to know how to do that." Cheetor whines, obviously having seen Starscream breaking the sound barrier next to the Predacons—

A shadow covers them, and they can only feel dread when they see the eagle-wolf fly quickly over them and towards the battlefield.

Ramjet is busy, having dived to engage more of their enemies, and while the Peregrine Falcon's fast, he's too far to get to the hybrid before—

The mech strikes, and a large shape falls down the canyon.

However, the scream that reaches them isn't Optimus'.

But Megatron's.

They can only stare dumbfounded as the Tyrannosaur manages to transform and fly away, other shapes and dust trails after him telling of the rest of Predacons retreating, before four more shapes approach them, two very well known and the other two ones that they'll have the chance to get used to.

And then, when Optimus, the Predacon turncoat and the smaller Maximals land, their leader shining with undamaged armor and looking down at them with a happy smile, it dawns.

They've won.

Optimus Primal is back.

And, apparently, they have a new teammate.

Cheers echo against the canyon walls, before yelps and grimaces replace them.

"Perhaps we should visit the CR Chambers before starting a party, huh?" Rattrap points out, and they all groan in agreement.

* * *

Proposed or not, a party will have to wait, at least for Rattrap, because Optimus didn't take him occupying his quarters very well, and, if the disapproving looks from the rest of the crew, Silverbolt included, are anything to go by, neither do the rest.

Dinobot's slap, strong enough to make his chair start to twirl, is confirmation enough.

Oh, well. Some people just can't understand recycling.

… Though, judging by the amused and calm looks of their four smallest companions, _some others_ can.

Damn little guys, being mysterious and confusing… but, he'll get to the bottom of things, oh yes. He's going to find out just what they're hiding, and when he does…

Well, they will all have to deal with it, then.

But now, they have others issues.

Like Ravage approaching them with his ears pulled back, clearly nervous, before calming with a deep intake.

Both Dinobot and Rattrap look down at him in curiosity, and the rest of Maximals go silent when they realize something is about to happen.

"I don't know how to use a sword. Could you teach me?" He finally asks, calm and almost emotionless, and the Rodent blinks in surprise before looking up at the Predacon, as equally serious as the small mech.

Someone asking the Pred for help, for him to _teach_? He can sincerely say he didn't expect that.

"I can't help with bladed swords."

And he _really_ didn't expect _that_ answer.

Dinobot uses a sword, why would he say—and why is he _kneeling_?!

Unnerved and startled, Rattrap can only stay still as he watches the disappointed look of the cat turn to expectation and slight hope as he looks into the larger mech's red optics and the servo he offers, palm up.

After a moment, Ravage reaches for the vertebrae-hilt of his weapon and unsheathes it, carefully, almost reverently, resting it on the Predacon's servo so that the other can examine it.

Using the chance, for none has really seen the sword up close, Rattrap looks it over too.

Unlike Dinobot's, this one is smooth and polished, a tiny yet long blade, when compared to its wielder, with only one edge sharpened and almost invisible lines dividing its length into equal segments.

And then, Rattrap's mouth falls open in disbelief, because the Predacon smiles.

Not a smirk or a grin, but a smile, eager and proud, as he returns the sword to the expectant Maximal.

"However, this isn't a bladed sword." He explains, reaching for his own weapon to display it to the smaller mech like the Cat is doing his. "And neither is this one."

"So, you can teach me?" Ravage asks, hopeful, as he looks up at the Predacon again.

"Perhaps. These kind of swords are called spark blades, because they need their owners' specific spark energy to activate." And, clenching a servo around the hilt, the pyramidal segments of Dinobot's sword begin to rotate. "They are part of ourselves, of our frames and code. Hold it, _feel_ it. And let us see what kind of weapon you were meant to wield."

After a moment of looking down at the innocent blade, the Cat nods and clasps the hilt.

For some tense nanokliks, nothing happens.

But then, Ravage's optics flash, and the servo under the blade is pulled away as a soft click sounds from it—and the pieces separate, a strong cable keeping them together as they fall to the ground.

A whip.

A _bladed_ whip.

"Not something I have a lot of experience with, but I can definitely help." Dinobot muses out loud, and the Cat beams at him before jerking his weapon up, the segments joining back together with the movement to once more conform a simple sword, and pulling the blade back in the sheath across his back.

"When will we begin, Master Dinobot?" The small Maximal asks eagerly, and Rattrap grimaces in a mix of disgust and unease.

Master.

He called Dinobot _Master_.

The Predacon turns serious, red eyes almost drilling into the tiny mech's yellow ones.

"As soon as you promise never to call me that again. I am no one's Master." He growls, and, to the Rodent's utter confusion, the Cat perks up and turns to where the other three smaller Maximals are.

Starscream, arms crossed against his chest plate, smiles proudly and nods, and Ravage quickly looks back at Dinobot.

"I promise to never again call you Master, Dinobot. Thanks for your help."

But the warrior doesn't answer, just gives the smaller mech a nod and turns to the Peregrine Falcon.

"You're willing to let one of your squad be taught by a Predacon." The brown-stripped mech lets out, neither a question nor an accusation, just pointing that out, and Rattrap tenses.

Something is about to happen. Something _is_ happening, but he doesn't know just _what_.

"As long as he's a _real_ Predacon, I have nothing against them." Starscream answers, and alarms start sounding in the spy's processor.

"Like yourself?"

The silence falls like a bomb at Dinobot's simple two words.

The Flier just smiles.

"At the very least."

And that does it.

Rattrap is up on his feet sooner than he can realize, his gun in his servos even before he can give the order, and the rest of Maximals are jerking away in surprise and disbelief at the answer.

"You're _Preds_?!" The Rodent shouts, but none of them tense, just look at them—

Starscream scoffs.

"We're obviously not Maximals, are we?"

"I can't believe it…"

"But they were in our pods!"

"Did the Predacons reprogram them? But why would they release them afterwards?"

"They weren't reprogrammed." Dinobot interrupts, standing and putting his sword back on his back, a snarl on his faceplate. "Although only you can answer why they were on your ship to begin with."

"They're what the High Council wanted us to get rid of, aren't they?" Rattrap accuses, turning to Optimus.

The Gorilla tenses, but immediately relaxes with a tired sigh.

"No, they aren't." Jaws fall open once more. "I truly don't know why we would have Predacons as our companions, especially since we weren't told this would be a mixed crew."

So, all optics turn to the smaller mechs once more, Ravage by Rumble's side again.

"We didn't want to be thrust into this mess, either, but we had no choice." Starscream scowls, optics dimming but sharp in warning. "And don't start with 'why didn't you tell us' questions. Did you really expect us to simply go 'hello, I'm Starscream, I don't remember anything before having to rush out of a collapsing cave, but hey, I'm a Predacon'." He sneers, and more than one Maximal looks away in embarrassment. "Besides, we are _not_ going to join that mockery of Megatron, so you have nothing to worry about us. We're still the same mechs you know."

"But why were you in the _Axalon_ in the first place?" Cheetor questions, and the four newfound Predacons exchange somber looks.

"Do you know how many explorers never return from their missions?" The Falcon answers simply, and Rattrap, Rhinox, Optimus and Dinobot grimace.

"Alright, we get that. The real question is, why would _Preds_ be in a _Maximal_ ship?" The Rodent points out, and red optics go black as Starscream tenses and looks away.

"I had a friend. We liked to explore, visit new worlds and discover new things. But… we got trapped in a storm. I lost contact with my friend, and scoured half the planet for him before my energy levels dropped to the point I barely had enough to return to Cybertron. So, I went back and asked for a team to be sent for my friend. I was charged for spark extinction instead." And gasps fill the room, for the words may be the formal version, but they all know their translation is 'murder'.

"But… why would you be sent to a Maximal ship?" Rhinox points out, and a humorless smile appears on Starscream's faceplate as he finally looks up with haunted optics.

"What makes you think my friend was a Predacon?"

Silence.

"No slagging way…"

"When I went to ask for help, I didn't go to the Predacons, for they wouldn't have cared. I went to those that I _knew_ would help my friend, even if I got in trouble. I should've known better."

_"We are _not_ getting in those _torture chambers_!"_

It makes an awful lot of sense now…

"And… the others?" Silverbolt asks softly, the rest too conscious or stunned to ask, and Ravage and Rumble exchange a look.

"We're brothers." The Cat answers in a whisper, clasping the Weasel's hand tightly. "Our crime was to be created."

Dread starts to fill Rattrap's tanks.

"How could that be a crime?" Cheetor pipes in softly, almost too softly, and the two smallest mechs step closer to each other and look at the floor.

"Because Carrier and Creator weren't supposed to be together."

"Weren't supposed to…"

"Their 'kind' wasn't supposed to mingle." And the hate filling golden optics and red visor speaks almost louder than those words.

"A Maximal and a Predacon. Not something that would be liked, but why would such a union be condemned?" Optimus asks carefully, and the Cat finally embraces his brother, both curling against the other.

"Carrier worked for the Council."

The world tilts and flickers around the edges, and Rattrap's voice box goes through reboot a couple of times despite the fact he has nothing to say.

"Carrier was too valuable." Rumble adds, voice muffled by him resting his head against his brother's neck cables, but audible in the stiffening silence that has filled the bridge. "So they deactivated Creator and got rid of us by reassigning us to somewhere Carrier would never be able to contact us, and where our deactivation could be easily the result of an accident."

"That… That is _deplorable_. Disgusting." Silverbolt hisses, ears pressed back and feathers ruffled.

"That is how things work." Starscream answers simply, resting a servo on Rumble's helm and letting them press against his side.

"No way…"

"I asked for a change." Ramjet pipes up, stance and voice nonchalant but refusing to look at the Maximals. "I was tired of having just enough recharge and Energon to function another orn, tired of just the necessary repairs so that we wouldn't fall apart, tired of being nothing but _tools_. So, I asked for a change. _This_ is what I got. You talk against them, point out the flaws of their system, and they make you _disappear_."

"You were part of the Cybertron Defense Force." Dinobot lets out, not a question, but gets a nod in answer.

And Rattrap winces, because he _knows_ the 'Joint Maximal and Predacon Forces for the Defense of Cybertron' is a joke at best, that each faction keeps their _real_ soldiers in their independent armies, and that only rejects and misfits are sent to the DF.

And they're as poorly maintained as Ramjet just described, at least those that refuse to play good soldier and as thus aren't allowed to do more than drills inside the facilities.

Those that patrol are kept at their very best, for the sake of their public.

"But you weren't." Starscream, once more, answers instead, and Dinobot tenses. "You were part of the Predacon Army, but were too much trouble, too much of a _real_ Predacon to just follow orders like every other mech. So, they sent you away, disgraced, a _failure_. Miner or builder?"

The tension is almost palpable, but, finally, the warrior lets a tired sigh out.

"Builder. You know a lot more than you let out. Contacts or experience?"

"Both." The Falcon answers simply, humorless smile in place but a servo softly caressing Ravage's back much like the Cat is doing with the Weasel, still curled against him but observing the conversing mechs.

"Nothing has changed, you said?" Optimus asks after some nanokliks of uncomfortable silence, and the Flier nods as the smaller two finally pull themselves apart. "Then let us leave the past in the past. There's a lot to do, and the Predacons still have numbers in their favor, so let's work."

Everyone nods or agrees verbally and, after half an hour, they're all bickering like usual as they repair Sentinel and the damaged hull, comm lines open between all teams so that they can chatter.

And, as Rattrap solders the plank Dinobot is keeping in place, with Starscream and Ramjet replacing burnt wires and broken tubing, the Rodent realizes that Optimus was wrong.

Things _have_ changed.

The cloud of suspicion isn't there anymore.

* * *

**AN:** And, at last, the _Coming of the Fuzors_ episodes are over, Optimus is back, and secrets are out in the open (from the Maximals' point of view, at least ;P)! Time to go write some Decepticon/Maximal interactions without having to worry too much about canon.

Yes, Terrorsaur and Scorponok are alive and Transmetalized, because we see them glowing before they fall to the lava, and, as someone pointed before, their deaths were kind of silly. Plus, this way, the number of Maximals and Predacons aren't as dispair with the addition of the Decepticons to the Maximal side.

Next chapter... I don't know. _Tangled Web_ could be a good one, and is the next in the timeline, but I think that, depending on how those interactions work out, I'll jump to _Maximal, No More_ instead. I have plans for that chapter... and so does Megatron, _yessss_...

Anyway, I'll get to those 'mundane' scenes now and we'll see later. Suggestions are welcome, as usual, and to those that asked for something, fear not, I'll get to it now that Optimus is back and I have some time to play before the snowball gets rolling again.


	10. Teaching to Learn

It's both hard and easy, which makes the whole experience frustrating and exhilarating at the same time.

For now, Dinobot is just teaching him forms and swift but incredibly simple counters, putting more emphasis on technique despite not caring a lot for it himself.

Or so it seems on the outside.

Now that he's learning the styles himself, Ravage can recognize moves, subtle identifying twists and steps, and even variations to adjust techniques to the Predacon's preferred fighting method, leaning on his strength and quite admirable maneuverability.

Which explains why his teaching consists on demonstrating a move or stance and having the Cassette repeat it until they're both satisfied as it's adjusted to the Rust-Spotted Cat's stealth and speed-based style.

If they manage to finish with these rookie exercises today, the Raptor has promised they'll work on incorporating the whip variant in them tomorrow.

However, none of them is in a hurry. Basics are the most important part of everything, so they must be well learnt.

Plus, adapting them to Ravage's preferences is actually quite entertaining.

And… painful.

Dinobot is nothing like the Cassette's creator, but the patience with which he deals with the smaller mech, the calm atmosphere… It reminds the Decepticon of those orns long gone, before Frenzy and Rumble were created, when it was just creator and creation exchanging tricks and ideas or simply chatting and playing as they waited for Soundwave to get home.

Like an uncle or an older brother. And for someone who is used to being the oldest of six siblings, it's a nice change of pace, being the youngest.

A shadow falls over them, and a look up is all they need to know it's time for a break.

Starscream, Ramjet and Cheetor are back from flight practice.

Silverbolt would have joined them, but Rattrap nabbed him and Rumble for some patrolling, which the youngest Cassette joined happily.

Apparently, he's taken a liking to riding on the Rat's back, something the Rodent allows with much grumbling and annoyance that everyone knows it's faked.

Despite his brother's eagerness and claims that Rattrap is a good mount, Ravage can't understand why the Least Weasel prefers the Maximal to Dinobot. After all, scales allow a better grip, and the Raptor has his arms free to catch him should he slip.

Oh, well. Rumble has never had much self-preservation, anyway.

Sheathing their swords, the Grounders get to the shadow cast by the _Axalon_, where some Energon cubes are waiting by some rocks that'll be used as seats.

The Fliers land gracefully, even Cheetor, after all the practice, and transform to join them, the Maximal pouting visibly.

"Did something happen?" Dinobot asks calmly as the newcomers grab their cubes and sit down.

"I can't fly at mach." The Cheetah mumbles, glaring at his Energon.

"I told you, just because you have some Flier coding, it doesn't mean you're one." Starscream answers with the bored tone of someone speaking on automatic. "You're a Chaser that can fly, be happy with that."

"Easy for you to say. Wait, how did you know I'm a Chaser?" Cheetor asks with a jolt, startled.

"Are you kid—"

"—joking?"

Silence for a nanoklik, and the Predacon and Decepticons exchange surprised looks that quickly turn to realization.

"Maximals." They simply say in unison, earning an indignant yelp from the largest feline.

"What is a Maximals' thing?" A voice asks from the descending lift, an amuse smile on Optimus' faceplate as he steps off of it to join them, his own Energon cube already in his servos.

"Your inability to recognize frame types." The Peregrine Falcon deadpans, and the Gorilla chuckles as he sits down.

"Well, these forms make it a bit more difficult, and it requires some practice anyway."

"Practice?" Dinobot repeats, looking insulted, and both explorers turn to him in curiosity. "Predacons don't need _practice_, we haven't blinded our sensors as much as Maximals."

It is by an effort of will that Ravage avoids looking questioningly at the other Decepticons, because, as Predacons, they're supposed to already know what has just been revealed.

But, as Decepticons, they don't.

However, the Cassette suspects it has something to do with the Autobots' alliance with the sensor-blind humans and the fact they won the war.

"Really? Then, what's Big Bot?" Cheetor asks skeptically.

"Shuttle Hybrid of Cargo frame type." The four of them answer dutifully, to the Maximals' astonishment and approval, respectively.

"Correct." The Gorilla confirms with a nod, and the Cheetah's surprise turns to excitement.

"That's amazing! What about Rhinox?"

"Covered Flatbed model of Cargo frame type." They reply in unison once more, exchanging amused looks.

"And Rattrap?"

"Minibot."

"I knew it!" There are some snorts and chuckles at the youngest Maximal's happy cry, and they all use the chance to drain their drinks some more.

"Do you agree with Tigatron being a Racer model of Road Runner and Airrazor a Seeker model of Seeker frame type?" Optimus asks, receiving nods.

"Wait, why don't we use feminine pronouns with you?" The Cheetah questions, turning to the Decepticon Fliers.

"It's called preference." Ramjet hisses, insulted, with his crest flared, but Starscream chuckles, obviously in a good mood.

"Now that we're talking about this, what would you say Silverbolt's frame type is?" The Gorilla asks once more, genuinely curious.

And Ravage finds himself mute, because he knows what he thinks the Fuzor is, but it doesn't make _sense_…

"I would say he is a Triple Changer." Dinobot answers slowly, tentatively, and the Decepticon knows they're thinking the same.

"Road Runner-Air Weapon Triple Changer, but he's scrambled." The Falcon pipes in calmly, as certain as ever. "Same with Inferno. He's a Tread Roller-Rotor Triple Changer, but his Rotor and robot modes are mixed up, while it is Silverbolt's alt modes that are meshed together."

"So _that_ is it." The Predacon whispers with a nod, a look of realization on his faceplate.

"Looks like we'll need to get some thorough scans done when we're back on Cybertron." Primal mutters to himself before turning to Starscream. "What about you?"

"Seeker model of Seeker frame type." One sharp dactyl moves to point at Ramjet, who straightens proudly. "Conehead model of Seeker frame type." And the claw moves to signal Ravage. "Cassette, both him and Rumble."

"And the Predacons?" Cheetor asks curiously, and gets glares from the four not-Maximals. "I mean, the bad Predacons?" He amends sheepishly, receiving approving nods in return.

"Megatron is a Tread Roller, model Mobile Weapon. Scorponok is a Builder; Terrorsaur, a Seeker; Waspinator, a Rotor; and Tarantulas is a Miner model of Builder." Dinobot explains after draining his cube.

"Blackarachnia is a Femme, and Quickstrike feels like a Tread Roller Hybrid of Road Runner frame type." The Rust-Spotted Cat supplies, getting nods from the other Decepticons and the Predacon to confirm his thoughts on the Fuzor.

"That would explain his belligerent nature." The Gorilla adds, agreeing with their opinion. "What about you, Dinobot?"

"Tread Roller." The Raptor answers simply, so suddenly serious and tense that it's obvious the topic is across a line better not crossed. "You should have weapons. All Seekers have coded in weapons." He tells the Decepticon Fliers, who don't seem the least bit disturbed by the change in the conversation.

"Care to tell where? Because I had those shoulder-mounted cannons before becoming this fuzz-ball, but not anymore." Ramjet scowls, lifting his arms as if to better show the lack of weapons.

"Airrazor has these tiny integrated guns on her forearms… Have you even _tried_ activating your weaponry to see if it's still there?" The Raptor hisses, grabbing a white wrist to observe the inconspicuous armor covering it.

Almost sheepish, the Conehead stutters a bit before finally looking away.

Starscream lets out a tired sigh, sounding too much like 'why the Pit did I get saddled with such idiots' to be anything different.

So, after a simple gesture towards some rocks, the Crested Eagle stands, moves away from the group, lifts his arms, and takes aim.

And the rocks blow out an instant later, when tiny but powerful missiles are shot through small grooves opening over his wrist joints.

The Conehead, unsurprisingly, is the most dumbfounded of them.

For a moment.

"Whoo! Did you see _that_?! I'm the best!" He exclaims with a slag-eating grin, turning around with the happiness of a newspark that has managed to complete his function for the first time.

Optimus chuckles quietly, Cheetor is as awed as the Conehead, Dinobot smirks, Starscream looks unimpressed and Ravage purrs in amusement.

Though the feeling of relief between them can't be ignored, nor does anyone want to do so.

At least Ramjet is still armed. Good for them.

"Well, your turn." The Predacon tells the Peregrine Falcon, who snarls quite impressively.

"I don't have weapons." Starscream hisses, receiving curious or confused looks, even as the Crested Eagle moves back to his seat.

"Have you even tried?"

"Of course I have tried, who do you think I am?!" The Seeker screeches, fuming, and Ravage doesn't understand what has happened to break that good mood he was in, leaving him this angered and…

Defensive.

Starscream's weapons are null-rays, one of a kind as far as the Cassette knows.

And the Maximals know the future Starscream, and thus would know what his signature weapons are.

Meaning, if the Air Commander was to use them…

"But maybe you didn't realize you had them? I mean, I didn't even know I could fly when I first got this body, so maybe if you tried again…?" But Cheetor grows quiet as the glare is turned to him.

Despite the obvious seething, however, Optimus' confused—and maybe suspicious—look is more than enough to get the Peregrine Falcon to stand up and move to where Ramjet aimed at the now half destroyed rocks.

"Alright! I'm telling you I don't have weapons, but do you believe me? No, of course not. So here, see for yourselves!" And he lifts his arms in a known stance, obviously pointing towards the rocks, and, for an instant, Ravage's fans stutter.

But there's no shooting, no crackling of electricity, no explosions of cluster bombs or missiles, just Starscream's plating turning black before the Flier curls into himself with a gasped curse, staggering a couple of steps to keep standing as the wave of darkness recedes to reveal his usual colors.

All Decepticons, Predacon and Maximals are on their pedes before the Air Commander manages to straighten, with the Cassette, the Gorilla and the Raptor by the side of the smaller Seeker with worry plain to see on their optics and stances.

"There. I _told_ you." Starscream hisses, and Ravage deflates in relief at the grumpiness.

He's fine.

But, they still have no idea what that blackness is, or why it's still there or how to get rid of it. could it be a side-effect of the Transwarp wave? Of their transformation?

If so, can they revert it?

"What was that dark thing, Big Bot? Some kind of virus?" Cheetor asks worriedly, standing next to an uneasy Ramjet, even as the Peregrine Falcon straightens, as calm and collected as if nothing had happened.

"I don't know. Have you looked it up? The CR Chambers should—"

"I'm _not_ getting into those things." Starscream hisses, menacingly once more, at even the simple suggestion.

And with good reason.

None of the Decepticons has get into the CR Chambers since they arrived, allowing time, self-repair and their medical knowledge to deal with whatever damaged they sustained, just in case the machines can give a clue as to their origins.

Their back-story may be taken care of, and none of the Maximals thinks any differences weren't caused by the Transwarp wave, but none of them wants to take the risk.

Not as long as they can avoid it.

"Starscream—"

"I said _no_, Primal. And nothing you say, order or try will make me change my mind." And, at the menacing snarl on the smaller mech's faceplates, the Gorilla relents.

"Very well. But, please, consider it. We don't want to see you in pain if it can be avoided."

"Not. Changing. My opinion." The Flier growls, and one servo lifted in defeat is enough to calm him down some, though he still straightens with his servos on his pelvic plating, a mix of proud and unmovable—

And confused, as he pulls his servos off himself to look down at the tail feathers attached to his hips.

"Starscream?"

Instead of answering, the Seeker tentatively reaches for one of the longest feathers, the first on the right side, carefully grabbing the shaft—

And detaching it with a simple tug.

A slow, careful twirl as he moves it to hold it upright, and it dawns on Ravage just _what_ he's watching.

"A sword? Again? What is it with these changes and swords?" He exclaims, half in disbelief and half in confusion, because Starscream's tail feathers may look sharp, but their end is so softly rounded that they don't look menacing.

At all.

Until the Seeker's optics pale in realization and, with another tug, he takes the first feather of the left side in his free servo, twirling it so that it's also held upright.

And, with determination on his faceplate, a new wave of black courses up his arms—and fully engulfs the feather-swords, and just them.

Unlike before, there's only awe and uncountable possibilities rushing through the Flier's optics, instead of pain.

One quick look at the rocks left standing after Ramjet's shooting, and Starscream tenses—

And clears the distance with a couple of quick long strides, pulling an arm up and to the side to let the useless-looking feather-blade's rounded tip caress the dirtied brown stone—

That opens with an almost poisonous gurgling as a thin gouge appears on it behind the black feather's trail, blazing red molten stone dripping from it.

The sound of jaws hitting the ground is easily heard despite none literally falling off.

"By the Matrix…" Primal whispers, managing to snap the others out of their reverie with the soft words.

Starscream, who is examining the cooling streams of molten rock with scientific curiosity, straightens when he hears their uncoordinated exclamations and questions, looking his usual smug self as he clicks the feather-blades back at his hips—

And the darkness on them vanishes as it rushes back into his body, making him skip a step and almost fall on his faceplate with a pained wince.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" He calls, taking a couple of deep in-vents and raising a servo to stop the worried mechs from slamming into him, the other carefully rubbing the middle of his chest plates, over the spark chamber. "Should've released that a bit slower."

"That was amazing! How did you do that?" Cheetor asks, once more excited like a turbo-hound puppy, when the Flier straightens.

"I'm not sure myself, but I intend to make the best of it." The Air Commander answers calmly, with a dangerous grin growing with his last words.

"Does that mean he gets to train with us?" Ravage asks, looking up at Dinobot.

And Predacon and Decepticon SIC exchange an uncomfortable and dubious look that, once upon a time, meant 'Carrier and Creator aren't sure you're old enough to know about _that_'.

Unable to stop himself, the Cassette falls to the ground amidst peals of laughter.

* * *

The night is clear and not uncomfortably cold, so Dinobot doesn't feel compelled to go back to the _Axalon_ despite having been out even since before the sunset.

Rattrap, Silverbolt and Rumble reported Predacon activity in a certain cave, filled with stable Energon crystals, and even though they managed to blow it up, it means things are starting to get dangerous again.

Which is something that the Cassettes don't appreciate.

The Raptor has tried—is trying—to not let their newly revealed pasts influence his view of them, but…

Well, he's being barely a bit more successful than Rattrap at keeping the unearthed protective streak at bay, and he thinks it may be only because he gets to teach one of them how to defend himself, and thus can make sure he'll be fine.

He hopes.

He lets a rumbling sigh out at the fierce protectiveness flaring in his spark, stopping his slow pace to tilt his long snout once more up, at the stars.

_"We're brothers. Our crime was to be created."_

_"How could that be a crime?"_

_"Because Carrier and Creator weren't supposed to be together."_

_"Weren't supposed to…"_

_"Their 'kind' wasn't supposed to mingle."_

_"A Maximal and a Predacon. Not something that would be liked, but why would such a union be condemned?"_

_"Carrier worked for the Council."_

_"Carrier was too valuable. So they deactivated Creator and got rid of us by reassigning us to somewhere Carrier would never be able to contact us, and where our deactivation could be easily the result of an accident."_

And so, they sent them to the _Axalon_.

But… they couldn't have been that old, could they?

They act mature and have obvious experience in fights, but they're Predacons. Even if their carrier was the Maximal, since 'Council' can mean either the Maximal High Council or the Tri-Predacus Council—and Dinobot is betting on the Maximal High Council, if just because such a 'betrayal' by one so close to them wouldn't have been kept quiet by the Tri-Predacus Council—, he has come to see just how well Maximals can adapt to battle conditions, and thus someone with creations depending on them would have eagerly learnt the arts of war, if just to protect them.

So, despite their youth, both their Predacon and their Maximal creator could've taught them how to fight.

As for their experience…

_"Carrier was too valuable. So they deactivated Creator and got rid of us by reassigning us to somewhere Carrier would never be able to contact us, and where our deactivation could be easily the result of an accident."_

That sounds too much like Predacon speech for 'they broke into our home, took us to the Maximals, read the verdict and deactivated the mech in front of the family so that they would know their place'.

_"That is how things work."_

That's what Starscream said, and he knows first-servo how the Maximal High Council operates.

Ravage and Rumble were taught from the very first time they came online how to fight, were put in such a situation not too long after that as their family was arrested, and had to watch as their Creator was extinguished in front of them for the crime of loving his family.

And it _is_ love. They wouldn't be talking of the deactivated mech with such fondness, with such pain at the loss, if their creator hadn't been dedicated all the way to his family.

After that, they were taken away from their only remaining family, and thrust into this crazy…

Wait.

If they had been sent to the _Axalon_ after that, when did they have the chance of meeting Starscream and Ramjet?

Because, at least to Dinobot, it's obvious they knew each other before they met the rest of Maximals and the Predacon. Their interactions, their words, Starscream protectiveness…

Perhaps they met before getting on the _Axalon_? Surely, there must have been some semblance of travel from Cybertron to the ship, since the _Darksyde_ didn't catch wind of it until they were far enough from their planet, so perhaps then?

Or did they know each other _before_?

Could be too. After all, Starscream had been sentenced too by the Maximal High Council, and, as a Seeker, he may have met Ramjet during training, thus making a small web of connections between the four of them, with the Peregrine Falcon taking the lead as the common link between the others.

Looks plausible.

Maybe one day he'll ask.

But, back to the current topic.

Predacon activity and their protective streak for the Cassettes.

Oh, was Rumble angry when they came back from patrol…

Apparently, both Rattrap and Silverbolt had tried to 'keep him from the fun' all the while, even when their intention had been to protect him from the Spiders and Quickstrike, something the smaller mech hadn't taken very well.

He can only hope he'll be able to control himself in the next battle. After all, Ravage is learning fast, and Rumble can obviously hold his own, and all of Primal's crew, Maximals and Predacons alike, are keeping an optic on the brothers, so they shouldn't need to be guarded like newly onlined newsparks.

… Aw, slag. He _won't_ be able to hold himself back, he can _feel it_.

Ravage is going to turn him into a Raptor-skin purse.

He has to chuckle at the thought, despite everything else.

As quickly as he's progressing, he might very well be able to accomplish such a feat, especially once they get to work on his whip variant. That will be interesting…

"What's so funny?"

Dinobot almost jumps out of beast mode at the voice, instead whirling around with a threatening snarl to, at the very least, return the scare.

Yellow eyes stare unblinkingly into his, slit pupils mirroring his own, from amidst midnight black fur.

"Ravage." He hisses softly, more of a sigh than a grumble, as he straightens, the Cat simply tilting his head, not moving from where he's sitting on a rock, slightly over the tall green grass, tail curled around his paws. "Shouldn't you be back in the ship?"

And there goes his protectiveness. Though maybe he's sounded annoyed instead of worried?

Yellow eyes narrow, and he curses in his processor.

"Shouldn't you? I'm not the one who has been walking around for hours. You don't have patrol assigned."

"I… wanted to think. In peace." He tilts his head with eyes narrowed at those last words, but the Cassette either doesn't notice the hint or disregards it completely.

He bets on the second option.

"Well, I wanted to think too." The Cat answers with a soft purr that's just this side of knowingly, so Dinobot knows the smaller mech is purposefully ignoring his worry and his efforts at coming across as annoying. "And I must say that this method of yours is quite successful. Why, I managed to clear a couple of troubling issues." He adds almost happily, which only makes the Raptor be even more suspicious, though he keeps quiet as the Cassette transforms to robot mode. "You're a Bestial."

The world tilts and blurs in and out of focus, and Dinobot can just maximize and sit down to make it stop, hoping it doesn't look as forced or fearful as it actually is.

Ravage doesn't react, just stays sitting there, smiling innocently, as he puts himself together.

And rage boils.

"And why, exactly, would you make such an assumption?" The larger Predacon growls, trying to keep the urge to crush the tiny mech in his servos.

Instead of answering, the Cat stands up—

The tiny whirs of transformation almost go unnoticed, but the changes don't.

Dactyls curling into themselves to conform paws, legs shifting the angle with the hips, sheath and blade extending to conform a tail without becoming covered in the furry hide of the beast mode, and the jaw structure resting at the sides of the head slipping forward as if a mask, shining almost white under the starlight in a bone-like mimicry of a cat's snout, sharp teeth bared without the synth-flesh covering them.

"Because I'm a Bestial." Ravage answers easily, once more sitting back on his haunches with the half fur half blade-bone tail curling around his fur-less paws.

It takes a moment more for Dinobot to snap out of his surprise and engage once more cooling systems he hadn't realized had stopped.

"You… Why…"

"Because this is what I am. And there's nothing wrong with it, no shame, no fear. I'm a Bestial. And I'm proud of it."

"You shouldn't!" He finally hisses, managing to finally put himself together, gesturing helplessly at the mismatched creature in front of him, at the bone-like appendage and face-mask-like snout, at the curled dactyls on the paw-like servos…

And trembling at the calm in those now pupil-less yellow optics.

He's sincere.

He's a Bestial, and he's not _ashamed_ of it.

"How do you…"

"My creators. What if I was a Cassette, what if I was a Bestial? I was Ravage, and that's all that mattered to them. All that my family cared about." The Cat explains, and the larger mech shudders once more.

However, before he can process the situation at hand, before he can find any words to put his feelings and thoughts into, a soft flapping sound catches both Predacons' attention.

And the silhouette that glides over the green grass, towards them, is easily recognizable under the starlight, and well-known.

Without though, Dinobot gets to his pedes and stands in front of a _still_ calm Ravage, but Starscream just slows his flight and transforms before landing gracefully and barely with a sound.

"There you are. I was starting to think you'd found some rat-free cave and decided to hole in it without letting us know." The Falcon salutes with a grin, before a confused frown wipes it. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all." The Cat answers, jumping onto the larger Predacon's shoulder before dropping in front of him, in plain view of the Flier while still in his Bestial mode.

"You sure? He looks pretty jumpy." Starscream asks, looking at the Raptor in curiosity but with piercing optics.

And it slams almost as hard as Megatron's fusion blasts.

"You knew he was a Bestial?" He asks, voice chocked, as he gestures at the tiny mech in front of him, who looks up curiously.

"Yes, as soon as I met him." The Peregrine Falcon answers with a shrug, uncaring about the larger Predacon's obvious distress. "What, you didn't?"

"I—No! How should I?" And the look he gets in answer, a clear deadpan but with those piercing red optics almost screaming at him to stop playing dumb, make his surroundings blur again. "You… You know…"

"Yes. I may not be a Bestial myself, but I know some. I don't really see why you would be so horrified, but I understand why you've been keeping it a secret."

"You do?" He lets out before he can stop himself, and the Flier nods.

"Yes. Tread Rollers are considered dangerous enough by many, especially those with no experience with warmechs, and so are Bestials. Combine both, especially a Meteoroid Striker model of the Tread Roller frame type with a Grounder Bestial mode, and you get a creature out of terror stories. To those that know no better, that is." And here, the Seeker smiles, slightly mocking to those stupid enough to let rumors dictate their thinking, and supportive to the dumbfounded Raptor that has just had his whole being exposed to the world.

Tremulous, and so emotionally messed up that he doesn't know if he's relieved or terrified, Dinobot can just sit down on the rock Ravage was perched on a moment before.

"You… knew all along?" He asks softly, trying to recompose himself, but simply looking up when the other two approach.

"Not really. I knew you were a Meteoroid Striker, but it took me a couple of days to figure you were a Bestial too. To be fair, however, I've dealt with my fair share of them, so I knew what to look for."

That… is far more reassuring than it sounds at first.

"Who else…"

"Rumble, but Ramjet and the Maximals are clueless." Ravage answers calmly, resting a paw-servo on his pede.

And, when he doesn't flinch or shuffle away from the touch, Dinobot realizes he feels _relieved_.

These mechs know, one of them is even a Bestial himself, and they _don't mind_.

Offlining his optics, the larger Predacon lets his helm rest against his chest plates, letting all his tension slip away as he focuses on the night sounds, the spot of warmth on his pede, and the presence at his side.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he's completely at ease.

Calm.

Almost… belonging?

No, not so far.

But at ease, at least.

"Better?" Starscream asks when he finally brings his optics back online and straightens, and the Raptor can only smile gratefully with a nod. "Now, any reason you were on your own in the middle of the night _and_ away from the ship when we have confirmed an increase on Predacon activity?"

"I… needed to think."

"What you need is to relax." Ravage states firmly, nodding, as he steps away from him and lowers his front body, tail lazily swinging from side to side. "Race?"

"What—No, no. I'm not meant for racing."

"And my legs are far shorter than yours, so we're equal. Race?" He repeats, this time mewling softly, as he jumps on his spot. "Come on, race?"

"I really shouldn't…"

"Oh, come on! Just say yes already. I promise I won't go faster than your average falcon." Starscream nudges—literally nudges, feathered shoulder bumping against Dinobot's scaly one, but careful not to get the feathers trapped between them—as he gives him a wide grin, stretching and moving away before transforming to his beast mode.

Ravage's excited bouncing increases, so much newspark-like that the larger Predacon can barely keep himself from joining their game—

But, why should he not?

These mechs know about him, and they don't fear him, don't hate him, they _accept_ him, are willing even to… join him in a game he never allowed himself to truly experience.

One last look at the Cat's excited bouncing is the last thing needed to break his resolve.

So, with a playful snarl, Dinobot rises to his pedes and activates a transformation sequence that hasn't been initiated in years.

The gears should feel rusty, locking or grinding as they move, but the changes are as fluid and painless as the very first time they happened, so his optics go black as he allows himself to enjoy a side of himself he has always despised.

His dactyls don't curl into themselves, instead rearranging so that all five of them point forward and one of them revealing the sharp claw that is usually stored in subspace, his pedes splitting to allow their dactyls to unfold, the backbone-like sheath on his back and the sword stored inside sliding to their usual tail conformation without the cover of synth-flesh, the rib-like ornaments on his sides rising as if plates on his back, with the raptor head's flesh filling in the gaps while the basic bone-like structure snaps over his faceplate as a skeletal muzzle.

And, for the first time in forever, Dinobot onlines red optics to look at a suddenly sharper world filled with new scents and sounds as he keeps his suddenly heavy upper body upright with the aid of a strut-only tail.

Starscream and Ravage look up at him with awe and respect, and, as slowly as he's able, the larger Predacon allows himself to fall on all fours so that he's at their optic level.

All he sees in red eyes and pupil-less yellow optics is pride.

And eagerness.

"Race?" He rumbles, feeling dormant coding come back to activation, the need to explore, to stretch his limbs once more, to _feel_, too strong to repress it again.

And this time, he doesn't even _want_ to do so.

Without a sound, Ravage rushes away as Starscream takes off with what can only be described as an excited screech, but Dinobot's optics can track the moving grass with ease.

With a defiant but happy guttural roar, the larger Predacon takes off.

He's slow, faster than in robot mode but slower than in beast mode, mostly because of his heavy upper body and front legs, thus forcing him to run on all fours, but he's far more agile, the space previously filled by the solid metal of his ribs now with flexible synth-flesh that allows him to jump and curl in positions impossible before, all the while on the Cat's trail and with the Falcon gliding and flapping almost calmly over them.

And he realizes that Starscream isn't racing, that he isn't playing and letting go with them, but that he's guarding them, taking care of them as a silent sentinel from the sky, and Dinobot roars once more, but gratefully this time.

The Peregrine Falcon screeches back, head tilted so one red eye lands on them, the corners of his mouth twitching in as much of a smile as his beak allows.

With a burst of speed, the larger Predacon finally catches up with the Cat, and, using coding he didn't even know he had, he grabs the smaller mech in his jaws and throws him on his back, earning a squeak and some pinpricks as claws catch on his scales.

But, a moment later, Ravage has climbed between his shoulder blades, and, when he roars once more, watching startled birds fly away from the trees they were sleeping in, the tiny Bestial mimics him as best as his higher pitched voice is able.

The river is calm, a surface of polished silver under the night sky, and, vents taking air in almost frantically, Dinobot finally stops, the smaller Predacon jumping down and the Falcon landing next to them.

As if in unison, the Bestials transform to their beast modes, the Raptor lying on his side with the Cat curling against his belly.

"That was fun. We have to do it again." Ravage purrs, more in recharge than active, and Dinobot can only chuckle in answer and curl around the tiny mech.

"Yes. We have to." He whispers back, smile growing as he feels warm feathers curling against his shoulders.

"But not today. Now, it's time to recharge." Starscream purrs—not literally, but his voice is so low and soft that his usual screechy rasp is almost a purr now—loud enough to be heard, but not enough to get Ravage out of recharge, and, curling his head over his own neck, Dinobot nuzzles the Falcon's head before resting his snout on his forearms. "Recharge, I said!" The Seeker hisses, fluffing himself against the Raptor's scales.

And the Predacon activates his recharge protocols without a single worry in the world.

_This_ is what belonging feels like.

* * *

**AN:** Weapons/Flight practice? Check. Discovery of the Decepticon Fliers' weapons? Check. Episode _Tangled Web_ taken care of? Check. A cute/happy/nice scene between Maximals (plus Dinobot) and Decepticons? Check.

So, if I've covered all major points... How the _Pit_ has the story managed to turn crazy?! I didn't plan this! I didn't plan the alt modes' chat, I didn't plan _Dinobot_ and I certainly didn't plan that brotherhood thingy! So _why_?!

... Stupid stories taking lives of their own *grumbles*

Ugh, alright, short info dump to clear what I unleashed up there:

A Chaser is the Cybertronian equivalent of a motorbike, Cargo are trucks and vans (Covered Flatbed is Ironhide's model), Minibot and Seeker require no explanation, Shuttles include helicopters (Orbitals are 'real' shutlles, while Rotor are intra-orbit Shuttles, modified to look like helicopters), Road Runners are Cybertronian cars (Racer is Wheeljack's model), Tread Rollers are a mixed bunch that includes tanks, missile trucks, guns and microscopes (meaning, Megatron, Warpath, Shockwave, Onslaught and Perceptor are in there, with _Beast Wars_ Megatron being the same model as Onslaught), Triple Changers are varied, but all of them have two alt modes (Silverbolt's would be a car and a jet like Blitzwing's jet mode, while Inferno would be tank and a helicopter), Cassettes are a model of Minibot whose alt mode is a cassette (duh), Builders are any vehicle that can be used to build/mine/wreck buildings (the Constructicons in G1), and Femmes are lithe, agile, flexible and all out kick-ass masters, not the female equivalent of Cybertronian. And Hybrids are anything that have coding from two different frame types and thus show characteristics from both, or even some unique features from the mesh of coding, though these last ones are rare.

Bestials are a 'corruption' of the essential coding for the root mode that can happen in any frame type, but that always results in the mech having a variant of their root/robot mode that resembles a beast (thus their name). They have 'instincts' and enhanced senses and are generally considered inferior and extremely dangerous. Now, a Cassette Bestial would be a cat or a bird, if we compare the average mech to a human, so they're mostly harmless and treated as pets, but something as tough, armed and big as a Tread Roller? They'll be the equivalent of a lion, a tiger, an elephant or even a dinosaur, so that's why Dinobot was so tight-lipped about it (is that the right word?).

And I think that's all. If you have questions, just ask, I'll answer.


	11. No More

The data on the screen is irrefutable.

And that, more than anything else, is what keeps Ravage and Dinobot mute in dread as they exchange a look.

Leaning back against his seat as the Decepticon sits down on the table, the Raptor snarls.

"So, Megatron's plan proceeds even without the disk. If it is successful, what will become of us and Cybertron?"

"Nothing good, that's for sure." The Rust-Spotted Cat answers softly, looking at the screen once more. "I still say we should bring Starscream into this." But the larger mech doubts visibly, so the Cassette turns to him once more. "You're a Predacon, but Megatron is not. Leaving him wasn't betrayal, antagonizing him isn't betrayal, and stopping him most surely won't be betrayal. And if you ask Starscream, he'll give you a hundred reasons more, at the very least. He may not look like it, but he has some scientific knowledge. If we asked him to help…"

"I… cannot involve him in this. Not when I still have my doubts about it all."

"What doubts? Is it something from before we got here?" Ravage asks, keeping his frustration to himself.

Dinobot is hiding something, but his stupid protective streak won't let him put the smaller mech in danger by revealing whatever it is.

Which is why they need Starscream. The Predacon trusts the Seeker, likes him even, and the Decepticon Second would surely find some way to trip Megatron's plans—he always manages to do it for _their_ Megatron, after all.

But it seems that protective tendency doesn't include just the Cassettes.

Either that, or whatever Dinobot is hiding is really big enough for him to fear for his comrades.

After a moment, the Predacon straightens, as if ready to reveal whatever secret he's guarding—

And the main screen comes to life, startling them both into looking up at Primal.

"Dinobot, report to the command center immediately. I need you to lead a mission into Predacon ground."

"On my way." The Raptor answers, closing the computer, and the screen goes black again.

"Please." Dinobot freezes at Ravage's voice, though avoiding the smaller mech's optics.

"Not now." The Predacon whispers, standing up almost solemnly, and going to the door.

"Later?"

Just before exiting the room, the larger mech stops.

And, without turning around, gives a nod before finally leaving.

A moment later, Ravage gets the computer open and recovers the data they've been reviewing.

Starscream is up to date with everything, both Decepticons have made sure of that, but whatever invisible line they've arrived at now is different than any before.

They may not be any closer to getting back to their universe, but that only means they need this one to stay stable some more.

Plus, those Golden Disks, and the data they contain…

The one Dinobot and Ravage brought back is the most meaningless of the two, if it can be called such, with just markings whose meaning they have to decipher themselves, while the other…

Well, if the Predacon's behavior means anything, the other is the Big Price, probably with some kind of recording or who knows what juicier information.

Which, the Cassette ponders, is precisely why that one was left behind.

If this one proves true, the other will certainly hold their future—all their futures.

If this one doesn't… well, the other may prove one-use only too.

Starscream would probably be able to make sense of most of the markings in here, so it's about time Ravage got him a detailed image.

As he copies all data in Dinobot's computer, however, the spy can't help but feel it's too little too late.

When Rumble contacts them through the private Decepticon comm line, with the Bestial and the Air Commander in the Seeker's quarters as the Rust-Spotted Cat gives him all the details of their infiltration in the _Darksyde_, the two disks and their discoveries regarding them, to tell them of Silverbolt's report of an attack and the Predacon's capture, Ravage knows his feelings weren't just a suspicion anymore.

One single look is all they need.

A moment later, he's curled in Starscream's talons as the Falcon flies away from the _Axalon_ and towards Predacon territory.

* * *

Onlining after being shot into stasis—or crashed into—is never a nice experience, but doing so to find himself in a cell in the _Darksyde_, surrounded by Megatron's troops, is even less enjoyable.

However, no matter how much he wants to rip Terrorsaur's voice box out, Dinobot stays still and silent, giving no sign to having recovered consciousness.

"He's dangerous. Finish him now!" Tarantulas adds darkly, silencing the Pterosaur's screeches for the same.

"And miss the chance to chat with our dear comrade in arms? I think not." Their leader rumbles, the last part a warning to any that decides to share the Spider's opinion. "Wake him."

It takes an effort of will to remain motionless when he feels the laser bars deactivate, and even more when Inferno and Scorponok's servos and pincers are on him, holding him upright.

And then, he hears approaching pede-steps and the crackling of electricity, and his whole programming rebels.

Fortunately, he manages to keep a hold of himself until he can actually _feel_ the charge of the gun-like contraption tickling his scaly skin, not yet touching—

But close enough to do so, which means its wielder is just in front of his snout.

His long and sharp teeth-filled powerful snout.

With an irate roar, he jerks back, snapping his jaws closed over Tarantulas' helm and jerking him into Inferno so that the Ant _finally_ releases his hold on him, the Raptor twirling on his spot to throw Scorponok away with his tail before transforming to robot mode to block Quickstrike's shots with his tail-shield.

A lunge is enough to slam the Fuzor against the wall with his rotary defense, and his sword manages to catch Terrorsaur on the chest before the Pterosaur can do more than squeak in surprise, sending him into Blackarachnia with a startled cry.

He turns around with a menacing snarl, ready to get rid of the last enemy—and finds Megatron's charged cannon locked on him.

He's too far.

He could never cross the distance before the larger mech shot, and at the first sign of his optic lasers charging, the Predacon leader would shoot too.

So, Dinobot snarls louder, not moving from his position, but keeping half his attention on the stunned Fuzor trapped under his shield.

He can't move to the sides, either, for the other Predacons have by now recovered enough to point their weapons at least in his main direction.

Despite everything, the Raptor is well and truly trapped.

That doesn't mean he won't go down without a fight, which is the only thing that keeps the others out of grabbing range.

"Ah, impressive as always. But ultimately futile." Megatron croons, as if Dinobot himself didn't already know that. "You so much as twitch, and you'll be scrapped in a nanoklik." The sound of weapons reloading or charging makes itself heard then, reinforcing the Tyrannosaurus' point.

"Do not think you will walk away undamaged if your loyal troops open fire." And it might sound like an empty threat, but the smile vanishing from the Predacon leader's faceplate tells everyone that it's not.

"Indeed. But that would be a waste of good Predacons, wouldn't it?"

Slag. Slag slag _slag slag_…

Megatron knows Dinobot took the Golden Disks, knows it was the apparent failure to bring them to Earth that drove his Second away, knows that the Raptor yearns for Predacons to step out from under the Maximals' control, back on Cybertron.

He knows, almost better than Dinobot himself, just how much the so-called Maximal feels torn between his loyalties.

"Oh, don't worry, my dear Dinobot, no. I understand your actions, your decisions. Why, I may even go so far as to say I would have acted just the same, had I been in your position. But times have changed, have they not?" The Tyrannosaurus adds, that smooth and secure tone of voice washing over the brown-stripped mech, reassuring, _understanding_, and the Raptor almost believes.

Almost.

Times have changed, yes.

Now, there are four more Predacons agreeing with him that Megatron's actions were erroneous, even if they too acknowledge the division between Maximals and Predacons as something inadmissible.

And there are even _Maximals_ that know things have to change.

Including Primal.

Dinobot isn't alone anymore.

There's no need for an all out rebellion.

… He doesn't _want_ an all out rebellion anymore, he just wants Ravage and Rumble to get back to their carrier, Ramjet to join a _real_ defense force, Rattrap to get that break from espionage or whatever he was looking for in the first place, Cheetor to become the explorer he wishes to be under Optimus' command, Rhinox to go back to his engineering, Silverbolt to become an Enforcer or something of the like, Tigatron to discover Cybertron and its wilds with Airrazor, Starscream to… do whatever Starscream does.

And Dinobot wants to be there, with them.

He wants to meet the Cassettes' carrier and formally ask to keep teaching his creations, wants to go to the Rat's bars to get a drink and meet with the others to talk about their jobs and discoveries and the new experiences, wants to join a true Predacon force with the Conehead, wants to spend time with the Peregrine Falcon's unbiased opinion and experiences and contacts and meet those other Bestials.

He wants the chance to get to know himself all over again, and to do it _better_.

And Megatron won't provide that chance.

"Indeed." Dinobot hisses, almost calmly, taking his no longer rotating shield off the Fuzor, who clatters to the ground with a grunt. "But you know me better than that."

And he charges.

Unfortunately, while the other Predacons' aim has strayed with the sudden movement and the instant of what they thought as surrender, Megatron's has not.

His shield is sent flying at the impact, and a large copper fist slams into Dinobot's faceplate the next instant, throwing his balance off.

That's all the others need to pepper him with energy bullets, throwing him to the ground blackened and sore, and with his sword no longer in his servo—

But in Megatron's.

The Predacon leader's snarl is full of wrath, but his optics are glinting with glee as he points the Raptor's own weapon at the smaller mech's chest plates.

"So I thought, before you chose to fight at Optimus Primal's side." He growls, the tip digging in the scales of his alt mode's head, and Dinobot snarls back.

"I thought you led us to the wrong planet. And you _betrayed_ me, betrayed us all, your _own_ Predacon heritage!" He shouts, though he doesn't move as his sword moves to his neck, and the delicate lines in there.

If the right one was to be pierced or sliced, he would leak to deactivation in less than a klik, without the almost automatic cauterization an energy shot provides.

That's one of the reasons Dinobot has always preferred his sword, after all.

"Dramatic as always, I see." Megatron half mocks, knowing very well the position they're both in, before turning serious once more. "Treachery keeps the wits sharp."

"Indeed." The Raptor returns with the same depreciating tone, something that makes the glare directed at him intensify. "And yours are razor-sharp." He finishes with such certainty that he can see the other Predacons exchange looks among themselves from the corner of his optics, though he's too focused on the mech looming over him to decipher them.

"And yet, you still don't realize that this is precisely why victory will soon be in my grasp." Megatron answers almost calmly, completely disregarding the brown-stripped mech's accusation with a fake pitying pout directed at the warrior under his feet. "Are you sure you don't want to share in that victory?" He asks condescendingly, like an experienced mech talking to a clueless newspark to reconsider their choice in toys.

_"You're willing to let one of your squad be taught by a Predacon."_

_"As long as he's a real Predacon, I have nothing against them."_

_"Like yourself?"_

_"At the very least."_

"I am no Maximal." Dinobot whispers, and he can see the smile growing on Megatron's faceplate, but, under the fake pride, he recognizes the greed and possessiveness.

He's not a comrade, an ally. He's not even a soldier.

He's a tool.

"But I shall be one of your twisted Predacons _no more_."

The smile vanishes, and the look bestowed upon him tells him that he won't have any more chances.

Apparently, the others know it too, because Tarantulas' giddy cackling echoes in the room.

"Allow me to modify Dinobot's programming, my liege. I promise you will have… positive results." The Spider asks excitedly, and, for an instant, the Raptor fears the scientist will have his way.

But then, to his and the rest of Predacons' disbelief, Megatron takes the sword away from him, a dactyl touching the tip as he looks it over like a conqueror examining a vulgar offering of the natives.

"I don't think Dinobot would approve of you loose in his circuits." The sword is moved to point at the Spider who jumps a bit in surprise, while the Raptor slowly, carefully and ready for anything, gets to his pedes. "Nor would I." He adds, voice low in yet another warning. "Still… Tarantulas _has_ a point." And the Tyrannosaurus tilts his head to observe the tense brown-stripped mech, who is starting to think it'd be better to just turn tail here and now and run away without a look back. "How do we know your spark has truly changed?"

This time, Dinobot can't suppress his fear as his sword comes to point at his chest plates once more, whole frame shuddering at whatever those words may imply for him.

"I believe some _reminders_ of true Predacon behavior are in order. To… _kick out_ any corrupting Maximal ideology that may have managed to get to you, before we give you a _last choice_, yes…"

Those bright red optics and that smile are going to haunt the Raptor to the end of his function.

Which doesn't seem too far away…

* * *

The fighting is relentless.

One after the other, all Predacons have their chance to pay Dinobot back for the many beatings they've received over their time on Earth, and by the time it seems he's done, the first he dealt with are already out of the CR Tanks and ready for more.

He's being cornered, and he doesn't like it one bit.

The arena is nothing more than a slab of volcanic rock at the border of a lava-filled canyon, cutting all escapes that way, and with a thin rivulet of molten rock marking the other side, with the Predacons not fighting waiting behind, weapons ready to stop any escape attempt, and the automatic defenses prepared in case he manages to get through them.

And Megatron, Dinobot's sword still in his grasp, just sits there on a throne-like contraption his minions took out with them, smiling pleasantly and asking, after every match, whether the brown-stripped mech has finally come to senses.

After every. Single. Fight.

Depending only on his strength, optic lasers and beast mode is tiring, especially against faster opponents like the Spiders, or Terrorsaur's flying capabilities.

And while he hasn't gotten himself exceedingly damaged, sometimes not at all, the blazing blasts from Inferno's flamethrower to get him away from the defeated Predacons are starting to take his toll on him.

He won't be able to hold on forever.

And he will never bow to Megatron again.

So, it's only a matter of time, of who can out-stubborn who… Of how badly damaged Rattrap and Silverbolt were, and how long it would take them to reach the _Axalon_ and for the Maximals to come.

A new burst of fire, and this time Dinobot yelps as he quickly steps away from a banged up Tarantulas.

"Inferno, that will be enough." Megatron orders, his voice carrying even over the crackling of flames, and the assault stops.

"Yes, my Queen!" The red and silver mech answers obediently, jerking his flamethrower up in a salute.

This time, most likely how the Predacon leader predicted, Dinobot doesn't try to attack Blackarachnia and Quickstrike as they pull the stasis-locked Spider out of the arena.

But that doesn't mean the brown-stripped mech doesn't have other methods of defiance… or something more important to pay attention to.

"I was not aware you had given yourself a new title." He lets out almost casually, making sure his smirk is mocking enough while still looking innocent.

Megatron's pleased expression turns thunderous as he walks into the arena for the first time, looming threateningly over the tired and blackened warrior.

"The Ant has some faulty programming." He hisses, bending almost too close, but Dinobot knows this isn't his chance yet, for he's being closely monitored by all other Predacons. "But his loyalty is without question." He adds, the lighting of his optics reinforcing the barb.

But the smaller mech just widens his smirk, not taking insult.

After all, _his_ loyalty is without question either.

He's a Predacon, a real one, and thus not one of Megatron's.

And he's proud of it.

Even if the darkening look on the Tyrannosaurus' faceplate means only more suffering to come.

However, the smirk growing once more betrays it won't be _bearable_.

"Now, I'll be merciful and allow you one more chance, this one not as _torturous_. There's the matter of the Golden Disks you stole from me… I assume you still have them."

No. Oh, no. Megatron _won't_ get that from him, no _way_.

And if he thinks he's broken, or close to, after some rounds of fighting, he knows him even less than any of them believed.

"No." He answers simply, snarling, and Megatron frowns.

"So, you gave them to the Maximals. Unfortunate."

"They're hidden. From both sides." He hisses, and if he hurries a bit too much to answer, it isn't to protect the Maximals from attracting the whole of the Predacons' attention.

At least, he hopes that's not the idea Megatron gets from it.

No matter if it's true.

"Where, exactly?"

Does he _really_ think Dinobot will just reveal the location of the remaining disk like _that_?

… There's something in Megatron's gaze, in his optics, brewing in that twisted processor fueled by his dark spark.

If he doesn't tell him, something bad will happen, something that will harm the brown-stripped Predacon far more than physical damage.

Tarantulas wanted to get in his programming.

If he does, he won't just extract whatever information they wish to know, but he'll have a chance to _reprogram_ him.

And Megatron will turn him against the Maximals, against the tiny Predacons—

_"That was fun. We have to do it again."_

_"Yes. We have to."_

_"But not today. Now, it's time to recharge. Recharge, I said!"_

No. By the Matrix, please, _no_…

… What's that _whistling_?

Apparently, Megatron has heard it too, because he looks up at the same time Dinobot does—

And they barely manage to cover their faceplates as a silver streak rushes past the assembled Predacons at the edge of the arena, and the very air explodes after it, throwing them away with startled cries.

There's only one mech able of flying at mach speeds with such control.

The bullet loses speed as it rises, wings opening with a defiant screech, and the Raptor can't help but smile.

Starscream.

With a roar, Megatron slams his tail-arm against Dinobot's chest plate with enough strength to send his systems through reboot as he slams into some rocks, crushing them at the impact.

When he finally manages to see again, there's a tiny form hovering over him, the dark faceplate splitting into a relieved smile as soon as his optics focus on it.

Him.

"Ravage." He whispers, a small smile on his faceplate as he carefully gets up, grunting at the pain in his back, sides and the stings of the burns all over him.

"Come now, quickly. Starscream can't draw their fire forever." The Cat hisses, tugging on his servo as he points away from the _Darksyde_, and, after a quick look, the larger Predacon sees all the auto-guns hanging uselessly from their supports, cut cables sputtering tiny sparks.

Sabotaged.

By a mech small enough to barely register, or not at all, as one.

This time, his smile is proud as he gets to his pedes—

And the fusion blast on his back sends him down again with a scream.

"Where do you think you are _going_?" Megatron snarls, loud pede steps approaching, as the Raptor manages to get to his knees and turn his helm to see the large mech move closer, Terrorsaur up in the air chasing after the platinum Falcon. "Ah, but you have a _friend_. Does he want to join us in the _games_?" He adds with a threatening smirk, and Ravage hurries to step between them, sword held firmly in his servos. "You don't plan to face me with that _toothpick_, now do you?"

"Not really." The Cat answers, and, faster than they can react, he throws his arms back and forward again horizontally, as if chopping a tree just in front of him—

And his sword disassembles into its whip variant, the sharp segments and strong cable wrapping around one of the Predacon leader's ankle joints—

With a sharp tug back, the whip retracts, Energon and sparks flying from cut lines and wires as the Tyrannosaurus falls back with a pained roar.

"Run, now!" The Cassette shouts, clicking the blue-stained whip back into its sword form and hurrying to pull on Dinobot's servos.

As the larger mech reaches to stop the Energon loss, or a stray spark from igniting it, the brown-stripped warrior gets back to his pedes—

And stops just long enough to grab his sword, now on the ground as Megatron's damage has forced him to drop it, before transforming and, with the Cat on his back, run away.

He risks a couple of looks back, and feels relief and awe fill him as he sees the smaller Seeker transform into his not-flight-capable robot mode in the middle of his ascent to fall on a startled Terrorsaur, black feather-swords piercing the Pterosaur's mid-section like a hot knife through butter, before jumping off and changing to beast mode again to follow, leaving the other Flier to fall with barely some flailing.

The sounds of pursuit are quickly drowned by irate Peregrine Falcon shrieks and howls of pain, as Starscream drops down on Scorponok, Quickstrike and Inferno to deliver the same treatment that he gave Terrorsaur.

Soon enough, the only thing still after them as they reach the limits of Predacon territory is Megatron's enraged roar echoing against the volcanic rocks.

"Are you alright?" Ravage asks, moving to be closer to Dinobot's head, and the Raptor can just nod, fans straining to allow his frame to keep the fast pace despite the damage. "Where are you going? We would get to the _Axalon_ faster that way."

"The… Disk…" He lets out between pants, and he can feel the Cassette tense on his back.

"Are you sure?" The Cat whispers, and, once more, the larger Predacon can just nod, though more firmly this time.

"I could get it." Starscream calls from above, a quick look revealing he's Energon-stained and a bit blackened, but seems to have no troubles with his flight. "Get to the ship, I'll meet you there."

"You—"

"I told him everything." Ravage cuts, and he can feel small dactyls grip his skin tighter, as if the revelation pained the tiny mech. "I _had to_. He can help, and you needed help, and the other Maximals were discussing strategies and losing time… I had to."

"It's… fine." He manages to answer, grunting as he starts the ascension to the mountain on top of which the Golden Disk is, hopefully, still waiting. "Thanks."

And that seems to surprise the three of them, but, once said, Dinobot knows it was the right thing to do.

Only when they're finally at the summit does the Raptor slow down, and that's when his damaged frame betrays him, sending him down on his front like a strut-less heap of metal and synth-flesh, panting rapidly as he tries to cool himself, Inferno's blasts having apparently damaged something inside as he seems unable to release internal heat as efficiently as he should.

"Dinobot!" Ravage exclaims as he gets out of the roll the larger mech's fall has sent him into, rushing to his side. "What is it? Is there anything I can do?"

"Where's the disk?" Starscream asks as he lands, and the Raptor turns his muzzle to point at where he thinks he hid it.

While the Cat looks over the superficial damage, the Falcon moves to the group of rocks, lifting them one by one with some effort, until he finally finds what they're looking for, as evidenced by the golden glint as the moonlight falls on it.

Awkwardly holding the stone up with both servos, the Seeker reaches with his pede to drag the engraved Relic out of its shadow, eagerly letting the rock fall once it is finally out.

And then, once the scratching and grunting and creaking of metal and Dinobot's loud pants stop, is when they hear the whoosh of propeller-powered flight.

The Falcon has just enough time to turn around with a startled look on his faceplate before a fusion blast right in the middle of his chest plates slams him into the rocks with a loud crack.

"Starscream!" Ravage and Dinobot shout when the Flier falls to the ground limply, optics black and tiny trickles of Energon dripping from the cracks on his plating.

Dinobot has just enough time to tilt his head upwards before a new shot next to him forces him to close his eyes to avoid the dust.

The Cat's yelp, however, is enough to get him to open them once more, watching helplessly as the tiny Predacon curls into himself with a pained moan, dark plating covered in soot from the impact.

Megatron lands with a loud thud, and the Raptor somehow finds the strength to get to his pedes and transform with a roar—

And a fist collides against his faceplate before he can even think of reaching for his sword, sending him back to the ground next to the whimpering Cassette.

The snarl on the Tyrannosaurus faceplate turns to a satisfied smirk.

"Ah, excellent." The Predacon leader croons, walking to where the Golden Disk has fallen without a care for the mechs strewn around, even if Dinobot forces himself to turn around and lift his torso on his elbow joints. "With this little bauble we will write a new chapter in the history of our race." Megatron gloats, subspacing the Relic.

"Or… _destroy_ it." The brown-stripped Predacon snarls, attracting the larger mech's attention.

"I assure you, all will happen as I have calculated." The Tyrannosaurus answers with a condescending smile, lifting his tail arm to aim at the Raptor as it starts to glow with charge. "Not that it would be any concern of yours."

When the shot comes, however, it is from somewhere behind Dinobot, sending Megatron to the ground as much from the surprise as from the impact.

"Looks like I got here just in time!" Rattrap exclaims, stepping from around some rocks, and the brown-stripped mech can say with certainty that he has never felt happier to see the Rodent than in this instant.

"Wrong." And a fusion blast sends the Maximal back this time, stunning him as he slams against his previous shelter, Megatron rising once more with an almost happy smirk.

However, the largest Predacon's position doesn't allow him to see Starscream's optics blaze red once more, nor the three-dactyl servo clutch a tail feather that immediately turns black—

The Tyrannosaurus doesn't fall down, but his pained roar and the way he stumbles forward make it clear it's just by force of will when the Seeker slashes through the back of a knee joint.

This time, Starscream is ready when Megatron whirls around with his tail-arm extended, rolling out of its way while swiping at it with yet another black feather-blade, leaving a gouge in it that makes all charge immediately dissipate.

"Your… ambition… has made you insane, Megatron." Dinobot snarls, slowly getting to his knees and pulling a recovering Ravage up against his chest plates, to protect him should the larger Predacon try something again against the confused tiny mech. "It will destroy both Maximal _and_ Predacon. And all who came before." He feels the Cat tense, a soft gasp escaping him, and hear Rattrap get back to his pedes and charge his gun, while Starscream's optics flash pale with dawning understanding.

"Then return to your Maximals!" The Predacon leader exclaims, furious, as he steps away from the crouched Seeker snarling at him and the Rodent's aimed gun. "See what good it does you."

And, after transforming with a roar, the Tyrannosaurus flies away.

"Are you guys alright? What the _heck_ happened?!" Rattrap asks worriedly, putting his gun away and kneeling next to the larger Predacon, who looks down at the Cassette curled against his chest plates.

Sensing the gaze on him, Ravage looks up, looking better and more focused than before, and gives the Raptor a reassuring smile.

"We're fighting a psychopath, that's what's happening." Starscream hisses as he stands, putting his tail feathers back on his hips, where they slowly lose their blackness by turning the rest of his plating gray, but without any apparent pain that isn't caused by his no longer leaking cracked chest plate.

The sound of jets makes them all look up once more, but they immediately let out sighs of relief when they spot Optimus and Silverbolt flying to them.

"Are you alright?" The Fuzor asks as soon as they land, observing them with worry, while Primal turns to the Rodent after a quick look.

"What's the situation, Rattrap?"

"Well, you just missed Megatron." He answers, but the unsurprised looks of the newcomers tell them that they've seen him retreating too.

However, he says nothing about the Golden Disk.

Could it be that he hadn't known it was here in the first place?

Yet…

"I… failed to retrieve the second Golden Disk." Dinobot whispers, the shame weighing so heavily on him that he looks away. "I had it here, but… Megatron took it. I… apologize for my failure."

"It was my servos that Megatron took the disk from. You may have retrieved it, but it was I who lost it." Starscream hisses, startling the larger Predacon into looking up at his disapproving snarl. "Don't you dare take the blame for me."

"It wasn't anyone's fault, but all of ours. After all, I failed to hear him coming too. I should've damaged him further." Ravage adds, ears lowering at the last sentence with his faceplate scrunched up, as if he'd bitten something distasteful.

Yet again, failure never tastes good.

"Oh, for booting up cold!" Rattrap exclaims, attracting their attention. "You can't trust Lizard-breath, and he smells bad… Then there's the teeth. Have you ever seen him eat? And Furball here is a slagging ghost that vanishes without giving a bot a hint, running around with Scale-belly like a pet or something. And let's not even start with Screamer there, just hearing him makes you want to go deaf—"

Indignant shouting and shrieking starts, with some very dangerous glares directed at the Rodent, but Optimus literally stepping between them and raising his servos to get them to quieten holds them at bay.

"But!" The Rodent exclaims, pocking out from behind the Transmetal Gorilla with a dactyl up in a knowledgeable pose. "I guess I kinda got used to them." He finishes with a smile, warm and accepting and happy to see them well enough to argue as they've done.

Rattrap Speech for 'stop blaming yourselves, you bunch of idiots, because we will care for you either way'.

_That_ is what finally gets the Predacons to calm down.

And to think.

There's something that the Maximals—No. There's something that _Optimus_ needs to know.

So, Dinobot turns to him, completely serious, and hopes his worry and urgency are safely hidden.

"I must discus something of great importance with you."

"Time enough for that back at base. And after a visit to the CR Chambers." Primal answers, nodding to the three Predacons, and while the Raptor just nods back, the other two scowl.

"I told you I'm _not_—"

"Starscream. Let's… save this for later." The Gorilla cuts, sighing at the end due to the incoming processor-ache. "Can you fly?"

"I—No, not really." The Seeker scoffs, looking more angered than embarrassed.

So, while their leader awkwardly picks Dinobot up, much to the Predacon's mortification and the Cat still resting against his chest plates' amusement, Silverbolt steps next to the Falcon, who climbs on with a defeated sigh.

"See you back at base!" The Rat exclaims cheerfully before transforming and almost flying down the mountain path.

And, sometime during the stay in the CR Chamber, after a slower than usual ride, for the Fliers shadowed the Rodent all the way back to avoid another ambush, Dinobot falls into recharge with the sounds of a, by now, usual argument between the Peregrine Falcon and the Gorilla outside, and a clear conscience.

* * *

**AN:** Surprise! I just couldn't stop myself, so there, have another chapter! :D

So, here you have it, _Maximal, No More_. Or, well, the equivalent after the Decepticons have been running around XP I like how it turned out, it has far more action than I first anticipated.

I can't believe I _just noticed_ what, exactly, Dinobot tells Megatron there towards the end, and the whole 'something to discus' with Optimus, and why he was back to his 'we have to destroy the Predacons no matter _what_' old self in the next chapters... I feel stupid, and kind of guilty for not noticing before.

On the other hand, it adds a whole new level of plot-twisting now, and I don't believe I'll be able to hold back much longer from trying to write it, sleep and food be damned (mostly, I'll eventually crash, as usual).

But... I wanna _wriiiiiiite_, I _wannaaaaaaa_... *whines*


	12. Revelations

In the end, it's Starscream's own damage that convinces him to get into the CR Chamber, since, apparently, something in his chest was hit too hard for simple servos and tools to fix.

However, that doesn't mean he stops grumbling for an instant.

Ravage, on the other servo, will be fine after a thorough wash and with some time, so the Cat leaves the Command Center to do just that, his brother by his side to drink in all the juicy details too trivial to include in the formal report.

Like, how much damage the Preds sustained and how, exactly, that happened.

So, Rattrap chuckles and shakes his head once they're out of hearing range, before going back to monitor duty.

And curses loudly, when he sees Rumble has beat his score. Again.

Which is why he's almost too busy to acknowledge Dinobot when he gets out of the Chamber.

"How was the nap, Sleeping Beauty?"

Almost.

"Better than yours, apparently, since your defective processor has not yet been repaired."

"Har har, real funny, Dino-butt." The Maximal scoffs, closing the game when he _finally_ manages to beat the Cassette, turning around on his seat at last. "Nah, seriously now, how _are_ you? Mega-head didn't play punch bag too hard with you, did he?" He asks, trying for mocking, but something in the way the Raptor tilts his head tells him he's been seen through.

"As if he ever could." The Predacon answers dismissively, though turning serious as soon as the words are out. "Is Optimus in his quarters?"

"Was last time I checked, yeah."

"Very well."

And, without another word, Dinobot walks away.

"Geez, nice seeing you too!" Rattrap calls, even though he knows he'll get no answer, and turns to the screens again.

He doesn't think the Preds will be up and looking for trouble so soon after what sounds like a mighty aft-whooping—from a Cassette and a small Seeker, to boot—but one can never be too cautious.

His determination last all of two nanokliks.

"Oh, for booting up cold! Why do I have to deal with this?" The Rodent bemoans, standing up and stretching. "There _is_ something called over-cautiousness, you know." He grumbles to no one.

And then, he sees the light on one of the CR Chambers is alight.

Ah, that's right. Starscream.

Feeling his curiosity grow, Rattrap takes a look around to make sure there really isn't anyone there—complete with watching under table and consoles, because those Cassettes are slagging good at hiding—and, satisfied he's alone, approaches the Chamber.

"Now, my feathered friend, let's see what is it you're so scared of us finding out." He muses out loud, almost slapping himself for it a moment later.

Talking to oneself, first sign of insanity.

Oh, well. He was talking to Starscream, so that discredits that, doesn't it?

With some deft clicks on the control pad of the Chamber, Rattrap brings up the blueprints of the frame in it.

And almost whistles out loud at the _mess_ that is the Seeker's systems.

… Though, after a calmer look, they aren't all that messy.

Spark chamber, fuel converters, fans… Everything important is there, and rightly positioned, even if some small pieces of the design are strange.

He'll have to ask Rhinox if it's a Flier or Seeker thing, but, so far, everything's in order.

Until one turns to look at the transformation mechanisms.

Oh, they're fine too, functional in regards of the mech's curious transformations, but they look so bizarre that it takes Rattrap far longer than it should to make sense of everything.

But ultimately, he manages.

So, everything is as it should, if one accounts for the modifications caused by the quantum surge.

The only exception being, of course, what is _not_ as it should.

Apparently, the Seeker has the same small guns as Airrazor and Ramjet, but the amount of wiring going to the comparatively tiny weapons is disproportionate… and cut from the main systems.

Seeing how this is the first time they've managed to get the Flier in a CR Chamber, it may be a mistake of whatever mutated them during the surge, so it could be fixed.

However, there are inordinate amounts of wiring and sensor nodes all over the feathers on the arms and shoulders, as well as the tail feathers, dactyls and, to a lesser extent, the arms themselves.

Essentially, what are the wings in beast mode.

Now, once more, that could be a Flier thing, but there are just so many that Rattrap can't help but stare.

And jump as he hears his name called, whirling to the entrance to see a suspicious and disapproving Rhinox standing there, arms crossed against his chest.

"Huh, hi there, Big Green! Just… checking on Screamer, see if everything's alright." He explains almost too quickly, a nervous smile on his faceplate that fools no one.

"Really. Then, how is he?"

"Ah, doing fine, these tiny mechs are tougher than they look." He adds, smile widening a bit more as he leans on the Chamber to pat it with one servo—and pull the blueprints away with the other, hidden at his back.

"You were checking his schematics."

"Yeah, exact—No! No, no, you know me, I never would—" Rhinox tilts his head, an optic ridge raising, and Rattrap deflates. "Yeah, I was checking his schematics. But come on, wouldn't you? Ain't you even the tiniest bit curious about the little guys?"

Instead of answering, the Rhinoceros steps forward, pushes the smaller mech out of the way, and brings up the blueprints himself.

The Rodent preens, mentally patting himself on the back at his knowledge of his larger comrade.

And gets closer once more to observe both the schematics and the reactions of the brown and green Maximal.

Who, after a nanoklik to decipher the differences caused by their different transformations, looks startled.

"That's an awful lot of sensors."

"Even for a Flier?" Rattrap asks, because that wasn't a reaction he expected from the mech who essentially operated on Airrazor.

"Even for a _Seeker_. I'd say he has at least twice the normal amount, not to say thrice. And that bundle here, in the arms… Well, that's too much wiring for mere weapons."

"Well, you know what he does with his tail feathers, you've seen the rocks outside." The Rat points out, barely keeping an unnerved shiver in at the memory of the trickles of cooled molten rock falling from a cut too clean to be made by a blade. "Maybe he's got a Sigma Ability."

"Maybe. That would explain things." Rhinox answers with a nod, apparently satisfied with the answer. "Though it still leaves unanswered why he needs so much cabling for his weaponry, Seeker or not. What kind of weapons could need that?"

"You can try asking, but I doubt he'll answer." The smaller Maximal snorts, crossing his arms against his chest plates as he glares at the cover of the Chamber. "That guy has too much secrets for someone so tiny."

"Rattrap, you know what he went through. Wouldn't you like to keep the gruesome details to yourself?"

They stay silent for a moment, and, finally, the Transmetal groans.

"Yeah, I guess so. Still, he's hiding something."

"Aren't we all?" The Rhinoceros adds with a somewhat savvy tone, clicking some more on the Chamber's pad. "Now, time to _really_ see how repairs are going. With how long he's been avoiding actually getting repaired, I wouldn't be surprised if there are some micro—The _frag_?!"

And Rattrap jumps, literally jumps, because it's never good when Rhinox shouts, or curses, so it's even worse when it's _both_.

"What?! What is it?!" He hurries to ask, uncaring about sounding a bit hysterical, as he gets under the larger mech's arm to see what is on the pad.

The repairs of whatever internal damage of the chest are done, but the CR Chamber is still working.

On the sensory net.

On the thrice as large as normal, _full_ sensory net, because, according to the scans, it has been _burnt_.

"How in the name of my great aunt Arcee did _that_ happen?!" He squeals, as startled as the engineer, who is once more clicking madly from around Rattrap's frame.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out—now…"

And they fall silent, too stunned to react.

Because the graph on the pad shows waves of energy coursing through the sensory net—and they're all coming from the spark chamber.

_The creature breaks its stare, and Rattrap scurries away with pained gasps, shaking almost violently as he suddenly feels, yet still unable to look away from the black thing whose attention is now on where Rumble is shaking himself back to consciousness, having somehow pushed himself away from the dazzled pile of pale feathers and dark fur._

_White flickers once, twice, and, after a third time, it starts to dim, its light extending to the black body and slowly giving color back to polished platinum marked with angular black lines that resemble a cross of lightning and ancient Cybertronian writing, and the frame soon becomes identifiable as a bird of prey, sharp talons gleaming with the same mixture of firmness and fluidity of quicksilver and pointed beak cutting the very light as it opens to reveal a tongue of pure darkness—_

"That's what it is." He whispers, shaking without control as he whirls around to pull Rhinox close by his shoulder plates. "That's what it is! The darkness! The going black thing, and those patterns as it goes away! His own spark is _burning_ him!"

"What?!"

Startled, both Maximals whirl around—

And the Rodent curses in his processor when he sees the two worried Cassettes entering the Command Center and hurrying to their side.

"What do you mean his spark is burning him? Is Starscream alright?" Rumble asks, gaze moving between the larger mechs' optics and the pad he can't see from the ground, his brother as questioning by their side.

"Er… Rhinox?" Rattrap gives as answer, turning to the Rhinoceros and letting him go to allow him to straighten.

"I've never seen anything like it before. I don't know if I could explain it…"

"But _what_ is happening?" The Cat asks once more, almost demanding as he glares for an explanation.

The hiss of depressurization, along a soft ping, stops them from answering, instead forcing them to step back as the Chamber opens.

Starscream's optics brighten slowly, but a look around is all he needs to get fully active again—

And almost literally fly out of the Chamber, throwing Rattrap to the ground in the rush.

"Ugh, not again!" The Rat groans from the ground, rubbing his helm before standing up.

The Seeker seems startled for a moment, analyzing his surrounding and the mechs around, before straightening with a scowl, obviously _finally_ recognizing where he is and with whom.

"What, do I look like I need a welcoming committee?"

"How are you feeling?" Rhinox asks carefully, attracting the Flier's suspicious glance.

"Annoyed, but repaired. Guess those Chambers of yours actually work."

"Of course they work." The Rodent grumbles, dusting himself off and discreetly examining the smaller mech.

He _does_ look repaired, no matter that, barely a moment before, the scans showed burnt cabling.

Perhaps the Chamber needs a check up?

"They said your spark was burning you!" Rumble exclaims, as confused as the others, and Starscream stiffens in surprise.

"That my spark was—You looked at my schematics?!" He shrieks, the pitch so shrill that the other mechs flinch back.

"Just to check up on the repair process!" Rhinox hurries to reassure, but the Flier looks incensed enough to—

Aaaand… there he goes, black tail feathers on his servos as the comparatively small Predacon stomps to the scared big Maximals, who can only move away warily with their servos up in an offer of peace.

Rattrap can't help his optics going to the seemingly useless weapons, sharp blade but rounded tip, and wonder how they manage to get back to their color scheme so fast after being burned—

Is it self-repair? Does the Seeker's work that fast?

Or could it be that they're not being burned but… what? Deactivated? That would be the same! Even worse! Self-repair would have to replace all nanites instead of just cleaning them.

Is that why Starscream refuses the Chambers?

"And I'm supposed to believe that after you looked at my schematics _without my permission_?! Step away!"

The Maximals follow the order, as do the two Cassettes, and only then does the Flier put away the feather-blades to be able to pull up whatever information the Chamber has now of him.

However, the weapons don't lose their black color this time.

Is it that self-repair is no longer working, or that they're still… charged…

That's it.

That's the reason for the large quantity of wiring, for the melting rock.

The feather-blades are so charged that they literally _burn through anything_.

Does that mean the feathers on arms and shoulders, seemingly ornamental, are capable of that too? And would those tiny weapons shoot melting rays?

Whatever the answer is, Rattrap hopes he doesn't get to learn it first-servo.

"Hey, huh, Starscream?" A glare, but at least the Rat has his attention. "You got a Sigma Ability, don't you?" And the Seeker tenses, slowly turning around to fully face the small Maximal, who is starting to think this has been a bad idea.

"Why would you say that?"

Uh oh. The Flier sounds calm. This will be _bad_…

"'Cause you got a lot of extra sensors and wiring, and those burning sword thingies… they burn because of the elevated charge through them, right?"

The Seeker narrows his optics menacingly, and, for a moment, Rattrap fears the answer will come in the shape of a black blade to his neck.

But the darkness of the tail feathers finally fades away, spreading to the rest of the plating until it's completely gone, and this time, the spy notices the pattern as the charge is distributed through the rest of the net.

"If you have the answer, why do you ask?" This time, the calm is almost tired, and the Rodent knows the danger has passed.

"Just confirming. That's why you go black too, ain't it?"

"You have the quantum surge to thank for _that_." The Flier growls, and it's just a reminder of how quickly can his moods change.

"And the burnt wiring?"

"Quantum. Surge." The Seeker hisses in answer, and Rattrap is about ready to let things go, for everyone's safety.

So, the quantum surge somehow increased his energy levels, or something of the like, and, unless channeled through the feather-blades, it seems to be harmful even to its wielder.

Well, like all guns. You've got to watch them even when you're the one shooting them.

"Can your self-repair deal with that?" Rhinox, however, doesn't seem as inclined to let the topic go, to the small Predacon's visible annoyance.

"It's been doing just fine. The only reason you ever noticed that was because you looked at the precise moment it registered. It's _my_ problem, and it's not a problem at all. So _drop it_."

This time, the Rhinoceros simply nods and stays mute.

"Well, as long as you can deal with things, no problemo. By the way, you know you have guns, don't you?"

And that earns Rattrap a deadpanned look.

"I'm a Seeker. I was created with ingrained weaponry, so _of course_ I know I have them. I just can't access them, which is why I'm using these." The Flier answers, half tired and half angry, gesturing to the tail feathers hanging from his hips. "Any more questions?"

Both Maximals exchange a look, but, after a moment, turn to Starscream to shake their helms in a negative.

With a firm nod in answer, the Predacon simply turns around and walks out of the Command Center, leaving the Chamber with any data on him deleted, two befuddled Maximals and two worried Cassettes who hurry to catch up with him.

"Well, no one's dead, so I say that went well."

"Shut up, Rattrap."

* * *

"Hey, Starscream, wait for us!" Rumble calls, and, to their surprise, the door stays open until the Cassettes get inside, upon which it closes and locks. "Was that true? What Rattrap said?"

"Yes and no."

"Care to elaborate?" Ravage asks, climbing onto the table with his brother after him, so that they're both optic-level with the Seeker, sitting on his chair.

"It's the reason why I go black and why my swords can melt through metal and rock, as well as a Sigma."

Silence.

"So… where's the lie?" The Least Weasel questions, confused, as he sits down and tilts his head to the side.

"It's not the reason of my large sensory network. It's my null-rays."

"Your _what_?!" Both Cassettes exclaim, startled, getting a tired look from the larger mech.

"My null-rays are my Sigma Ability, if you want to call them that. They're just energy bursts that disrupt the energy flow, which is why mechs get paralyzed. They're from _me_, not the gun barrels, those were just a conduit. What happened here is that the quantum surge changed that, and until I found another suitable conduit, I had no way to channel them. My 'going black' is what happened when the null-rays interfered with _my own_ color nanites." The Flier explains somewhat calmly, and the brothers can just nod as they process the information.

"And the burning thing?"

"That's the null-rays at their max."

"Awesome…" Rumble whispers, imagining just how deadly the Seeker would be had he kept his guns—

And how much it clashes with the pathetic shots he throws at Megatron's—_their_ Megatron's—back every now and then.

Yet again, Soundwave always says to not worry about that, so maybe his carrier knows the Air Commander isn't really trying to deactivate their leader?

_Must be._

Shrugging that off into the category of 'things to ask Soundwave', subfolder of 'long and boring, leave it for later', Rumble focuses back on the tired-looking Flier.

"Any more questions?"

"Nah, we're cool." He answers, immediately snickering at his own pun, to the deadpanned looks of his superior officer and brother. "I had to say it!" They just shake their heads in the patented 'there's no fixing that' gesture, and the Least Weasel leans back, resting his weight on his servos. "So, now that that's out of the way, what now?"

"Have you talked with Dinobot?" Starscream asks Ravage, who shakes his helm with his ears pulling back.

"No, he was in the CR Chamber when I went to fix myself, and he wasn't there when we came for you."

"Why? Is there something going on with big, bad and scaly?" Rumble questions curiously, receiving a curious look from the Flier and a grimace from his brother.

"You've been spending too much time with small, tricky and smelly."

And both Cassettes break out laughing at that, as the Seeker lets out a defeated sigh.

"If Soundwave asks me, I'll tell him you made the choices of you own volition, and that I had nothing to do with that… _corruption_ you've undergone."

"Says Optimus Primal's _Air Commander_." The Least Weasel mocks, earning a snarl. "Primus, Megatron is going to _love_ this one."

To their surprise, though, the larger mech starts chuckling himself.

An exchange of glances tells them that the other Cassette has no idea why, either.

"Screamer?"

"Don't call me that." But he's still too cheerful to be really menacing, so Rumble just tilts his head in confusion once more. "Though I agree. _The Royalty_ will certainly like to know about his loyal troops."

This time, it is the three of them that break out laughing.

Because, yeah, the Cassettes aren't stupid enough to call their Megatron 'Queen', but this wannabe Predacon? It's just too funny not to laugh.

"Wazzpinator thinks Zzpeedy Bird-Bot will not like that, oh no." Rumble answers with his best imitation of the Wasp, and Ravage falls to his back holding his sides.

"How dare you withhold information from the Royalty! In the name of the Colony, you will _buuuuurn_!" The Seeker returns, lowering his voice to a better pitch to mimic Inferno's cackling, and the laughter increases.

"Ugh, I'm surrounded by idiots! I'm lucky to have you, Sugar Bot." The Rust-Spotted Cat butts in, doing his best to stop his amused purring as sits up and curls a dactyl under an imaginary Quickstrike's chin.

"Of—Of course, Sugar Bot. Ah will rid ya o' these morons!" Rumble manages to answer between a couple of snorts, shaking his right servo up in the air in a mockery of the Fuzor's snake head-servo, before dissolving into laughter. "Primus, I can't believe I said that!"

"I can't believe you used that stupid accent!" His brother retorts, also cracking his tanks up with mirth.

"Silence!" Both Cassettes jump at the bellow and the servos slamming at their sides, all laughter gone as they look up at the irate Seeker's snarl.

Which quickly turns into a well-known high and mighty smirk as the Flier straightens in his seat and pokes a thumb at his own chest plates.

"This is all Megatron's fault! But when _I_ lead the Predacons, I will destroy the Maximals faster than he could've ever dreamed!"

"Is that supposed to be Terrorsaur or yourself, Screamer?" Rumble drawls, once more sitting up to rest his weight on his servos again, and Ravage covers his faceplate to muffle his snickers as the Air Commander glares at the Least Weasel.

"Real funny."

"I thought so too."

"Hey, mechs! Mechs!" Startled at his brother's sudden giddiness, both the Flier and the younger Cassette turn to the Rust-Spotted Cat in confusion. "I found something in the _Darksyde_'s database, a security vid, and I can't believe it really took me so long to remember it, but…" Expectation grows as the darker mech's smile turns into a positively evil smirk, optics glinting with barely suppressed mirth, and the other two lean closer. "Megatron, Leader of the Predacons, Big and Terrifying Tyrannosaurus… has a rubber ducky."

Nothing.

For an instant, there's nothing, not even the twitch of a gear, the shallowest air intake, the simplest of connections in their processors.

Ravage's smirk seems to widen, and, from somewhere far away, Rumble realizes he now knows what a 'Cheshire Cat Grin' is.

"And he talks to it."

The next instant, the Decepticons are rolling on the table due to incontrollable laughter, or, in Starscream's case, on the ground after falling from his chair.

The doorbell rings, but the Least Weasel only notices it when he hears the confused deep and raspy voice over him.

"What happened to them?"

"We were sharing anecdotes." The Seeker answers, still snickering softly, as the Cassettes pull themselves together to grin brightly at the confused Dinobot.

"Anecdotes." The Predacon repeats, tone emotionless.

"Rubber ducky." Rumble lets out before breaking into laughter again.

He's _never_ going to get rid of the image of the Predacon leader talking to a bright yellow human toy.

"You've-You've gotta give me a copy!" He wheezes, turning to see Ravage slowly sitting up, and, when his brother nods, the Least Weasel finds the willpower to put himself together at last. "So… any other juicy blackmail about your former leader?" He asks the Raptor, who looks about ready to turn tail at the Cassette's wide grin full of sharp denta.

"Later, Rumble." Starscream orders, serious once more, and all mirth vanishes as fast as metal in front of the Insecticons.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Yes." Dinobot lets out with a sigh, sitting on the berth when the Seeker gestures for him to do so, looking far more worried than ever before. "I've told Optimus this already, and he has agreed that it is better if the others don't know, but…"

"Megatron didn't come here for the Energon, did he." Starscream finishes when the larger mech doubts, and the Raptor jerking upwards at those words are more than confirmation enough. "He came purposefully to Earth, but Earth never had Energon—not according to any databanks, at least." The Predacon slowly nods, sitting down again and curling his dactyls into shaking fists. "He came for the _Ark_."

Rumble's world tilts dangerously, and it's only because of Ravage leaning into him that they both avoid ending on the ground.

"That's what you meant. When you said Maximals, Predacons and _all who came before_ would be destroyed…" The Rust-Spotted Cat whispers, and, when the larger mech nods, both Cassettes shudder with loud clanging.

"Carrier…" The Least Weasel whimpers, unable to stop himself.

But Starscream standing up makes his attention go to the Flier, who calmly approaches the other Decepticons.

"I promised I would get you back. That means I will make sure there's something to go back to." He tells them softly, carefully picking them up.

Pride be damned, Rumble curls into the embrace.

The unresponsive bonds are hurting far more than any other time since they left that accursed cave.

The Flier sits down, and the Cassette uses the chance to make himself comfortable on his lap.

He doesn't want to lose Soundwave, Frenzy, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw or Ratbat, and he doesn't want to lose Ravage either.

"If… If something happened to… to the _Ark_… Does that mean we wouldn't exist anymore?" The Rust-Spotted Cat asks from his side, curling around his younger brother, and Rumble whimpers loudly.

Because vanishing is a horrible future, but what if they _didn't_? What if only those back in their future, past, whatever, were the ones to disappear and leave the two Cassettes stranded _here_?

"Nothing will happen to the _Ark_." Starscream whispers soothingly, servos caressing the smaller mechs' backs to help them calm down. "We know what Megatron is planning now, so we'll make sure it never happens."

And Rumble hopes he's right, even as he curls further into warm plating to feel the faint pulsing of the spark under it, embracing his older brother tighter, and lets whatever Dinobot and Starscream are discussing go unheard.

It'll be alright. Stascream will get them back, and Soundwave will be alright too.

It will be alright.

It _has_ to.

* * *

**AN:** Serious, to funny, to despairing. I can honestly say I didn't plan this chapter, because, if I did, I would've ended it in a happier note. Curse Megatron...

Well, _finally_ the 'going black' thingy is fully solved. One less thing to worry about. And the Predacons' plan is revealed, a whole mountain of slag to deal with now.

And things are only going to get worse.

So, yes, there was supposed to be nothing anywhere close to this angst here, but when I re-watched _Maximal, No More_ to get last chapter right, I realized just _what_ Dinobot says, and then I remembered how he was acting in the following chapters... And it clicked. Badly.

I couldn't leave it out. So... sorry, but the funny ride is over.


	13. Stardust

Ravage can only watch worriedly as Rhinox and Dinobot search for other alien structures, and the fact the one lead they have is where Tigatron and Airrazor are unknowingly about to step on isn't helping his increasing nervousness.

They can't deal with this now, Megatron…

Megatron has been targeting the _Ark_ since orn one… but now he'll be _pressed_ to act, what with Dinobot finally clearing his loyalties, so the Maximals—and Predacon and Decepticons—should be doing something!

Of course, that might be the added worry of knowing Soundwave is in there, but it makes no sense!

Yes, the logical thing, and what the Raptor told them was the original plan, was that Megatron destroyed Optimus Prime, so that the Decepticons would win the war almost as soon as they reactivated, so there's nothing for the Rust-Spotted Cat to fear... After all, the Maximals, as the Autobots' descendants, should be the ones worrying now, which is why Primal hasn't revealed the information to the others, to avoid mass hysteria…

But Primal doesn't seem to worry about it either!

It's so frustrating…

And there Ravage is, stuck on monitor duty. If only he could do _something_.

Wait.

He may not be able to stop Megatron, but if they manage to _not_ trigger this alien artifact, Primal will have no choice but to focus on the Predacons!

And since the jamming towers are supposed to only mess with _Maximal_ communications…

::Ravage to Starscream, do you copy?::

::Do I copy? What is this, some joke?::

The Cassette barely manages to keep a smile at bay.

::We've located another alien artifact that Tigatron and Airrazor are about to trigger, but we can't reach them because of the Predacons' jamming towers. I'm sending you the sector coordinates, do you think you and Ramjet can get to them before—::

::Already on it. We're splitting up to cover more ground, so have both channels open. Starscream out.::

::Ramjet out.::

Thank _Primus_.

Now, the only thing left is to hope.

But hope can only take one so far…

::Ravage, I… I was too late. Tell Ramjet to rendezvous here, and try to get to Optimus and Silverbolt, tell them I've got Cheetor with me. I'll contact you later.::

Slag.

So, now they have to deal with the aliens.

On the one servo, Megatron will be busy with them too.

On the other… those creeps almost managed to deactivate them all the last time they showed an interest on them.

So, Ravage can just pass the message along to Ramjet and call Rumble to the Command Center, waiting until Dinobot and Rattrap bring down that jamming tower so that he can pass along the message without arousing suspicions from the Rhinoceros.

The Least Weasel gets to the bridge, hopping next to his brother at the screens, and they wait.

And wait.

What the _Pit_ is taking them so long?

"Optimus to Rhinox."

Both Cassettes turn to the engineer's screen, were Optimus can be seen on a new window over the energy beam of alien origin.

"Optimus, did you see it? The signal."

"No. But Cheetor said it took Tigatron and Airrazor."

Cheetor said.

Starscream is supposed to be with him, so why not 'Cheetor and Starscream said'?

Worried, the brothers exchange a look, before the Rust-Spotted Cat opens a line to the main Decepticon channel, listening with half an audial to the conversation between the Maximals and the Rhinoceros' musings.

::Ravage to Starscream, what happened?::

Nothing.

::Starscream, answer!::

::He's not going to answer, Ravage.:: Ramjet pipes in, sounding uncomfortable.

::What?!::

::Tarantulas was here, he knocked Cheetor out and got Starscream a dose of Cybervenom. He's in stasis until we manage to get him back to base.::

Both Cassettes grimace visibly, glad the Maximal with them is busy enough to not see them.

::What about Tarantulas?::

::He was nowhere to be seen when we arrived. See you at base.::

And the alarms go off as the ship starts to shake.

::Hurry up! Megatron is knocking at our door!:: Rumble exclaims as both tiny mechs move to be by Rhinox, staring at the image on the main screen.

"I—Huh… I come in peace."

"Yeah, right." The Decepticons hiss menacingly, getting a nod in agreement from the Maximal.

And then smirk, as Rhinox proceeds to sass the Predacon around.

Until the commands short-circuit, blinding them and tying their servos.

"Aw, slag."

That's the last of Rumble they hear, as both Cassettes vanish from sight while the Rhinoceros tries to get things working again.

Such a blackout can only mean there are Predacons in the ship.

So… time to go hunting.

The Least Weasel's grin as they spot the Ant approaching from a side corridor can only mean 'we've got a winner!'.

The last time he saw that smirk, Skywarp ended covered in enough honey to have half of the insects in the state follow him everywhere for the two days it took him to get it all off.

They wait in silence, letting him walk past their immobile and thus unseen crouched forms…

And, when he stops next to the table to examine the controls on it, they pounce.

Or, more accurately, they throw themselves at the back of the larger mech's knee joints, making them buckle—and send their owner faceplate first into the table with a startled yelp.

Rhinox whirls around just in time to see the Ant fall on his back to the ground.

And, with his usual giddiness, Rumble jumps onto the insect's beast mode head, transforms his arms into their characteristic pile-drivers, and bashes the Predacon's faceplate in until he stops twitching.

::Optimus here. Come in, Rhinox.:: The Maximal leader calls through the comm, and the engineer slams a servo around for a moment before finding the right button, his optics analyzing the Command Center in case of another intrusion.

"Rhinox here. We have some uninvited guests. Megatron is outside, Inferno is in stasis on the floor—"

And Blackarachnia drops from the ceiling, transforming out of beast mode as she does so, just on top of the large Maximal with a kick strong enough to almost make his head pop off his neck struts.

The following shots from her machinegun spider arms send the Cassettes running for cover, none of them with any long-range weapons to use against her.

The shooting stops soon enough, but only because bigger trouble has arrived.

And bigger, as in _literally_ larger.

Megatron walks into the Command Center as if it belonged to him.

With a silent snarl, Ravage unsheathes his sword, and Rumble modifies his pile-drivers into enormous claws.

"Ah, the Golden Disk."

And they need no more signal.

While the Least Weasel rushes out of hiding with a loud bellow, startling the Predacons, the Rust Spotted-Cat uses the shadows of the room and his silent pede-steps to run next to where Rhinox is lying and, using him as a stepping stone, jump.

The slash he aimed at the Tyrannosaurus hip joint, at those thick and important Energon lines, fails as, in his haste to avoid the tiny bullet known as Rumble, the Predacon takes a step to the side—

And the spy slams into his back instead.

Not letting the chance go, Ravage starts climbing, avoiding the grabs of a servo and the pincer end of the tail-arm, as he moves to be between the propellers—

Before he can drive his sword between the armor, a smaller pincer catches him and throws him away, landing next to where a stunned Least Weasel is trying to get to his pedes.

Slag.

They're too small.

But Rhinox is not, and he's getting up—

Only to have an arm ripped off and be punched in the faceplate—

To land on the two Cassettes.

Fast as they move, they still find themselves trapped under the Maximal's bulk, and so can do nothing as the Predacons go away.

With the Golden Disk.

As if they weren't slagged enough…

* * *

It is with relief that Dinobot watches the CR Chamber open to let a confused Starscream out, but the Flier quickly recovers with a loud snarl as he sees the other Predacons waiting for him.

"That wretched Spider!" He shrieks, servos tightly clenched into fists.

"They got us all this time." Rumble hisses, looking away with shame, his pride far more bruised than his plating. "Megatron, Inferno and Blackarachnia got in here and took the Golden Disk."

"Fragging _perfect_. Don't we have enough to deal with?!" The Seeker groans, throwing his servos up. "Ugh. What's the plan?"

"That's what we don't agree on." Dinobot answers dryly that time, and the other three nod with various degrees of annoyance. "As you know, Airrazor and Tigatron were taken, and the Maximals seem to worry more about them than the rest of us."

"They're casualties of war." The Falcon hisses, and the Raptor snorts humorlessly.

"That's exactly what I said. But Maximals don't know how to deal with war."

They stay silent after that, each musing how to deal with the situation, when the rest of the crew enters the Command Center, Rhinox's arm back where it belongs once more.

Almost casually, Dinobot brings up a holographic view of the _Darksyde_.

No one protests.

However, no one says anything either, the Predacons at one side, waiting for the Maximals to say what they all _know_ needs to happen.

But no one says _anything_.

"We must take the Beast Wars to Megatron, now!" Dinobot finally snarls, unwilling to lose more time.

"Hey, we may need him and his bozos to take out whatever those planet busters are sending." Rattrap points out, though he still looks at Optimus.

"I agree with Dinobot." And the united cry of 'at last!' going through the Predacons is loudly heard in their stances, smirks and optics, instead of their voices. "Our last truce was a joke. Megatron must be stopped now. We can't fight him _and_ the aliens."

Before they can rejoice, however, the alarms sound again.

"Warning. Spatial anomaly detected." The AI informs, showing a view of… some kind of wormhole with tentacles.

"Looks like we don't have a choice." Rhinox summarizes, and, once more, the collective 'slag' doesn't need to be voiced.

* * *

While Optimus does his 'grand entrance', couple with some light bickering with Megatron, Rattrap takes a look at the 'troops'.

Only Cheetor seems truly affected by what happened with Tigatron and Airrazor before.

Well, it feels bad saying this but… Good.

It's bad that the scouts are no longer with them, but they can't be mourning now, not with a fight in their servos.

That much, the Predacons seem to understand.

Though, the small four hadn't known the disappeared Maximals for as long as the others, so maybe that has something to do, too.

Nevertheless, they have Preds to blast, and, this time, Rumble, Ravage and Starscream carry their own guns and rifles. No way are they getting beaten again because of lack of long-range weapons.

Which is another good point.

Now, on the other servo… Well, Megatron's goons are _definitely_ planning something, if those gizmos on the ground are something to go by.

And so, both sizes transform to robot mode, the standoff looking pretty impressive—he hopes—and—

And the slagging aliens arrive to build _another_ bungalow.

The only difference with the last one, is that its light isn't a signal, but an attack.

As Rattrap shouts in pain at the surge coursing through him—so much like the Energon buildup of his old frame—he can't help but curse in his processor.

_I _knew_ we were all gonna die._

The pain grows more intense, almost burning—

And starts to recede.

_… __Or maybe not._

When he's finally strong enough to sit up against a rock, Rattrap can just rub his helm and groan, though the sounds of shifting metal around him tell him he's not the only one still active.

"I forgot how much fun Energon surges are." He lets out in an obviously sarcastic tone, bringing his optics online to see Optimus sit up, the tiny Predacons also getting up with grimaces and scowls and—

Starscream's black coloring slowly vanishing as his white optics reboot a couple of time to go back to their usual red.

_That_ has to be one of the creepiest Sigma Abilities _ever_.

"We survived it." The Gorilla answers, turning to the unmoving Dinobot and Rhinox. "At least, most of us."

And that means most of the Predacons are still active, too.

One quick look at them, standing in front of what looks like a closed door, is more than enough to confirm it.

"We have to stop them. Get ready to fight." Optimus orders, and, as before, they get back onto the rocks.

Quickstrike spots them, immediately trying to catch his leader's attention, but the Tyrannosaurus seems too busy with his musings.

"Better listen to him, Megatron!" Primal calls, and Rattrap almost winces out loud.

Sure, shooting enemies in the back is a _bad thing_, but they're trying to stop the bad guys, so _come on_.

The tiny mechs at his side agree too, if their annoyed grimaces are anything to go by.

However, just before the shooting starts, some kind of… screen, or something, pops up between the two groups, and their blasts are suddenly rebounded to the Maximals.

Jumping down to hide behind the rocks, none of them gets damaged.

"Well, now we know what those posts we for." Ramjet grumbles, glaring at the energy web covering the alien contraption.

And at the Predacons changing to beast mode to enter the suddenly open door.

"Slag." Rumble hisses, and Rattrap nods in agreement.

Following Optimus, the Maximals run as close to the web as they dare, but it isn't as if it would be of any use…

"Megatron, don't!" Primal shouts, and the Rodent can almost hear his thoughts being echoed by the tiny mechs next to him. "Their power is beyond what you can imagine, you can't control it!"

_As if talking will accomplish anything other than him mocking us._

And, indeed, the Predacons mock them, Terrorsaur's smirk, Scorponok's silent laughter, and Quickstrike and Tarantulas going as far as ignoring them as they climb inside.

"I _am_ power." The Tyrannosaurus answers before following his minions, the door closing after him, and the four Predacons on their side groan.

"How original." Starscream scoffs, moving even closer to the web to examine it, and the Rat follows to see if he can find anything either.

Meanwhile, Optimus sends Silverbolt and Cheetor back to the _Axalon_ to get Dinobot and Rhinox to the CR Chambers—

But Rattrap is too busy watching the Falcon throw pebbles at the web.

"What are you doing?" He asks, observing as another stone bounces back.

"Testing its integrity. It must have a weaker point, perhaps higher up, maybe on the origin point. If we found it, maybe a strong enough hit would bring the whole shield down."

"Sounds… doable."

"So you can bring it down?" The Gorilla asks, watching them pick up some more pebbles while moving to the first contraption the web originates from.

"Sure. But then what? Megatron's inside that tin shack, and I'm out of can openers."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Starscream answers, his smirk growing as he throws a pebble at the web, and observes it simply slide down the main vein in front of the generator. "After such an energy boost, it will need recharging. And Megatron knows those kind of things won't stop us, so, to avoid us blasting a new door in, he'll have to send his minions _out_."

"Rattrap just said he can't blast a door in." Rumble points out, confused, but the Rat starts to smirk too.

"But Megatron doesn't know that." Ravage answers with a soft chuckle, and the Rodent immediately brings out two of his explosive charges.

"I like how you think. Alright, we're gonna shut this web off with these beauties. One on this side—" And he hands the other to the Peregrine Falcon who accepts it with an almost menacing smirk.

"And one on the opposite." The Predacon finishes before transforming and grabbing it in a talon. "Is it armed?"

"Yeah, just make sure it's in position and then come back."

As the Flier takes off, and after carefully leaving his own charge in place, the Maximals move to their rocky refuge once more.

"You don't know if that web is the only thing keeping that alien toaster quiet." Rattrap points out as soon as the remaining Seeker joins them, mostly joking but serious deep inside.

Optimus has no qualms about humor.

"Blow it."

"You're the Big Ape." He answers, and presses the detonator.

As expected, the web flickers out of existence even before the dust settles.

"Alright, now, about getting inside—"

"Perhaps we should go first." Starscream cuts, gesturing to the other Predacons, and one lifted optic ridge from Primal is all the permission he needs to elaborate. "We're fast and small targets, even if Megatron is expecting us, we could easily draw their fire while you follow."

"Why are you always volunteering us for these suicide missions?" The Weasel whines, earning a deadpanned glare from the Flier.

"Would you rather stay here and see what new weapon that thing is going to unleash, or be safely inside so that we can sabotage it without worrying about Energon surges?"

"And they call _me_ selfish." Rattrap mutters, making sure it's loud enough to be heard.

That could be one reason, yes, but Starscream tends to draw enemy fire with more frequency than any excuse could justify.

Yet again, he's good enough to dodge it, and the two Cassettes are excellent spies and hackers, so, with Ramjet's flight capabilities and long range weaponry, it's not a so farfetched strategy.

"Enough, what we need to worry about now is how are we going to—"

The door swishes open.

"Get inside?" Optimus finishes, surprise clear in his voice, and the tiny Predacons immediately transform to beast mode so that the Cassettes can climb onto the Seekers' backs or be hold in their talons.

"Distract them, we'll get behind and rid you of them." The Peregrine Falcon orders—flat out orders, the nerve…

But Primal simply nods.

And, when Quickstrike and Tarantulas start shooting, the Gorilla and Rat retaliate.

A quick look back shows the tiny mechs are nowhere to be seen—and turning his attention to their enemies reveals why, as the Falcon and Eagle fly inside the alien structure, almost touching the ceiling and wall as they try to avoid detection by the very beings they're flying over.

Phase one: Success.

With a jump, Optimus changes to his flight mode, Rattrap climbing on the hoverboard with ease, and they speed towards the door just as a couple of tiny explosions send the Predacons to a meeting faceplate-first with the ground.

And then, the alien contraption starts to shake with a trembling roar.

Startled, Primal stops, both of them unable to do more than observe as it starts to float, some of the spires on its corners moving—

To point at the Maximals.

"This… is bad." The Rodent whispers, feeling dread run through his lines.

One single shot of green energy is all it takes to send them back, and Rattrap finds himself once more surrounded by rocks.

The sound stops, and the Maximal peeks out to see the whole contraption floating, a green beam sweeping the tiny valley and taking the mechs in it up—a thing he avoids only by kneeling behind the rock—and grows an ugly protubera—

Oh. It's… Megatron's face.

Well, he _knew_ he was ugly.

As the Predacon leader talks to Tarantulas, Rattrap analyzes the frames suspended limply, and almost freezes when he realizes Starscream and the others aren't there.

They're inside the alien thing.

The Transmetal Spider is left to drop, while the rest of Megatron's minions are zapped back to activation, and then—

They're all swept inside when the green beam vanishes.

"Oh, man. What else can go wrong?"

Clanging, whooshing, a beam of light—

And the alien mushroom vanishes.

A soft click, and he's suddenly held at gunpoint by a scrapped Tarantulas.

There's only one thing to do in such a situation.

"I _had_ to ask."

* * *

Whatever the alien structure is, it's incredibly useful when it comes to hiding from the Predacons. It has not only one floating level, but also lots of secondary tunnels and holes and even tubing they can get behind in case they encounter someone.

Not that they do.

They took the upmost tunnel at every chance after the machine started to float, knowing the plan had changed, and thus they're now nested almost at the top of the main vault, with the perfect view of all the structures below.

Getting Rumble close enough to the cables holding Optimus is easy enough and thus Starscream focuses on the obvious generator, or main control machinery, some kind of yellow boxy thing between two of the main passages, and far enough to not get the attention of the Predacons, busy with whatever Megatron is ordering them to do. Which, as a bonus, sends the three Fliers away.

So, while Ravage and Starscream are going to see if they can hack the alien contraption and gain control of it, with Ramjet as a guard, the Least Weasel's mission is get Primal free.

Easier said than done.

Just getting to the Transmetal himself is more trouble than he ever wanted, having to slide slowly down one of the cables, careful of not going too fast to attract anyone's attention, and, of course, of not falling to his deactivation.

Fortunately, he isn't one of the best Decepticon spies ever for nothing, so he makes it to his objective without more trouble than his own paranoia.

Nevertheless, he stays nestled over the armor plates and the clubs' shafts, pressing into the seam between them and the Gorilla's armor and back plating to stay as hidden as possible as he calms down.

Alright, now, on to phase 2.

"Big Ape? Come on, Boss Monkey, don't leave me hanging… Not that I'm hanging anymore, but you get what I mean." Rumble whispers, moving as close to Optimus' audial as he dares, kneading the back of his neck and shoulders with his paws and emphasizing the pinpricks of his short claws.

It takes a bit, and the time is successfully used by the Predacons to install transwarp cells on the yellow control thing, forcing the other Decepticons to hide under the main level, but, finally, Primal recovers consciousness.

"Goody. Now, quiet, I'm not here, got it?"

"Rumble?" The Gorilla whispers back, barely audible, and the Cassette digs a claw in his shoulder for it.

"Not. Here. Grab onto the ropes so that you don't fall while I cut them." And, this time, the Maximal obeys without a sound or even a twitch, even going so far as to make it look as if he was testing the cables' strength.

And, obviously, catching Megatron's attention while he's at it.

_Make my job more difficult, why won't you…_

"Optimus Primal. How good to see you awake. I wouldn't want you to miss our voyage home."

Carefully making his way over the back of the Transmetal's arms, Rumble freezes.

Home.

"Home? You're taking this thing—"

"Back to Cybertron, yes."

Cybertron.

Transwarp cells are supposed to allow a ship to bend reality to travel at really fast speeds through space…

And time.

This could be their ticket home.

"You can't! Who knows what the aliens may do if they become aware of Cybertron!"

Or the past.

Slag, there go their chances of returning home.

Though if Screamer or Ravage manage to get this thing's schematics, or something of the like…

_First things first. Make sure you all get out of here functioning and in one piece, and that Megatron's loonies don't keep the gizmo. _Then_, think about going back._

Priorities in place, the Cassette carefully resumes his climbing challenge.

"Let them! In time, I will destroy them, as I will your precious Maximals _and_ the Autobots too!"

Double slag. Megatron _does_ sound crazier when he's speaking about making itty bitty chunks of stasis-locked Autobot, even more after knowing what his whole plan is.

_Gotta work fast._

"You're _mad_!" Uh oh, please don't— "Optimus Primal, Ma—!"

And Rumble bites him.

It makes the Gorilla curl into himself, and thus his arm move, but the Cassette is holding on tight.

What really matters is that it keeps the Predacons away, feeling there's no need for a punishment when their enemy is too damaged to even transform.

At least, that what he can gleam from the Tyrannosaurus' pitying laughter.

"There is no heroic escape today, Primal." The larger mech mocks, and the Decepticon lets out a silent sigh of relief at having lucked out like that.

And Megatron starts babbling about conquering Cybertron.

Uh huh. What else is new?

So, after a moment to let the Predacon finish gloating and focus on boasting to his minions, Rumble moves and transforms carefully to robot mode, using only one of his giant claws to saw off the restraints on the larger mech.

The tight grip Optimus keeps on the cable makes it that he barely wobbles when it's cut, so the Cassette moves back to the shoulders and up the other arm, chancing a look at the yellow thing, now Predacon free, and feeling hope when he catches Ramjet peeking from behind it.

Ravage and Starscream are already working. Good.

Now, to get rid of that second restraint and wait for the right chance to—

Muffled sounds of shooting and explosions, and Rumble freezes once more as Optimus talks.

_Stop catching the psychopath's attention, I'm trying to work!_

But, apparently, today is the day of Maximals getting in the way, because the shooting increases, or something blows up, and the whole alien weapon shudders.

This time, Rumble bites his supposed leader to hang on.

Fortunately, the Predacons seem too busy to wonder why the Gorilla is grimacing without apparent reason.

"Engage the Maximals at once!"

_At last good news!_

As soon as he hears the Predacons go away, Rumble resumes his climbing and gets to cutting the second cable, feeling safer now that there are less visual arrays able to spot him.

The shooting stops.

The Least Weasel keeps sawing.

"So much for your Maximals. Now, to play my final card, yes… Locking coordinates. Begin teleport sequence."

_Aw, slag._

A loud horn-like beep answers the softer ones, and the Cassette smiles widely.

Because dismantle him and turn him into a toaster if that wasn't an 'incorrect order' signal.

"What? I said, begin teleport sequence!"

_And we have a winner!_

The cable is finally cut, the other Decepticons have locked the machine, or blocked Megatron's orders, and there's just one Predacon against the four of them plus Primal.

Time to have _fun_.

"Hey, how come I wasn't invited to this party? You've even got a piñata!" Rattrap's voice exclaims, and Rumble uses the chance of the Tyrannosaurus being distracted by his sudden appearance to jump on Optimus' shoulder.

"Whenever you want, Big Banana." And Primal releases the cables, transforming into his flight mode, and slams into Megatron hard enough to throw him off his chair.

"Destroy the control chair!" The Gorilla orders as the Predacon transforms to beast mode and flies up to him pedes first.

"Payback time!" The Cassette shouts, jumping onto the Tyrannosaurus' snout as soon as the would-be conqueror latches onto the Maximal, his still large claw-like pile-driver digging easily into an optic.

Megatron bellows loudly, shaking his head at the pain, and, before he can gain a firmer grip, Rumble is sent flying—

And lands onto a feathered back.

"Nice save, RJ!"

"I wanted in at the action too." Ramjet answers, circling the two grappling leaders, waiting for a chance to strike. "Playing bodyguard is even more boring than monitor duty!"

And that makes the Cassette chance a look at the yellow control center thingy—

"Ravage!" The Conehead jerks around at the sound, cursing as he sees Tarantulas has managed to creep down on the other two Decepticons, hidden from sight behind the larger structure—

The Spider jerks back with a shriek, one of his extra legs flying away, and, as they move closer, they see Starscream is no longer jacked into the alien thingy, but standing in front of the Rust-Spotted Cat with two black feather-blades on his servos and a menacing snarl on his faceplate.

"We need to get out before this thing blows off!" The Air Commander shouts, and the transwarp cells turning red is all the warning the Predacon and the other Decepticons need, as well as Megatron, who has somehow managed to get tossed to the ground.

"Well then, let's go!" Optimus shouts as their enemies retreat, Rattrap climbing to the hoverboard, and, an instant later, Starscream flies from behind the yellow contraption with Ravage in his talons, so they all get out as fast as they can—

With a beam of light, the alien weapon vanishes.

"Teleportation?" Rumble asks, stunned, but a look at his brother's smirk tells him that he's wrong.

A flash over their helms makes them look up, watching a bubble of light expand before vanishing.

"You sent it away before detonating it." Primal whispers, understanding dawning on him and the Least Weasel.

"We didn't want another quantum surge wave, did we?" Ravage purrs in answer, and they chuckle as they make their way back to the ground.

"When this alien gizmos blow, they really blow." Rattrap chuckles, sitting comfortably on the front of Optimus' hoverboard.

"What about Airrazor and Tigatron?" Cheetor asks as soon as they land, and both Ravage and Ramjet turn to Starscream.

Who sighs in something resembling defeat.

"There was nothing about them in that thing's databanks. In fact there was almost nothing about anything. It was made to be a weapon, and it had just what it needed to be that."

"If their sparks are still online, we'll get them back." The Gorilla whispers, resting a servo on the Cheetah's shoulder plate.

Silence as they all turn to stare at the stars.

And while the Maximals may have lost two comrades, the Decepticons feel the loss as accurately.

There went their chance to go home.

* * *

**AN:** I'm not happy with this chapter, but oh well... *shrug* _Other Visits_ is out of the way, so on to other things.

By the by, the chapter is called Stardust because that's what everyone's hopes turned to: The Predacons' super weapon, the Golden Disk, Tigatron and Airrazor (from what the Maximals know) and the Decepticons' ticket to the past (since all transwarp cells Maximals and/or Predacons manage to get their servos on end destroyed or unusable one way or another soon after getting them).

Better luck next time...

**Giddy:** I'm glad all that technobabble wasn't too messy or boring ^^ And I couldn't leave Rubber Ducky out, he's one of the most, if not _the_ most valuable member of the Predacons! I mean, he's Megatron's confident, that _is_ an important position XP Also, er... I'm not a native English speaker, so these things tend to fly over my head... what's "rotfl"?


	14. Death Shall Take Us All

**ATTENTION**

**IMPORTANT**

**PLEASE READ!**

Do I have your attention? Yes? Good, it'll take but a moment. This AN is to tell you that this chapter is rated M. Yes, **M**, from **Mature**, and it is done so because there's gore in this, lots of gore, psychological terror, mechs going crazy, maybe a bit of cannibalism... Well, this is from the episode _Bad Spark_. I think I need say no more.

For those that want to skip the gruesome details, it is safe to read until Silverbolt and Blackarachnia are found (key sentence: "Finally. We need to get out of here, and fast." After that, things go downhill fast, so I suggest you stop there if you want to avoid all the M-rated stuff). From then on, only the very last scene of the chapter will be back to T-rating. Don't worry, I'll write a summary at the end so you can know what happened while sparing you the icky bits.

For those that don't mind... Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

It starts innocent enough.

Monitor duty, a call from Cheetor, who is on recon, about locating a damaged—thoroughly trashed—stasis pod…

And then, it all changes.

Starscream shrugs as he watches Optimus briskly step into the lift with Silverbolt, but, despite his bored and uninterested appearance, it doesn't mean he's not paying attention.

"Primus help us all if that thing survived."

Well, well. Isn't that _ominous_.

However, it's none of the Seeker's business, so, when Rhinox goes back to whatever, most likely to more closely monitor the other Maximals, the Flier uses the excuse of having to stare at the screens to sift through the data he extracted from the alien weapon.

Vok. The Vok's weapon.

He knows nothing of any species calling themselves that, and while it may be because either they existed no longer, or not yet, in his time, it can also mean that Cybertronian hadn't simply encountered them.

Nevertheless, all that data…

Upgrades for scans, weapons, new equations and logarithms for him to break apart and piece together and _improve_…

Oh, yes. The Vok will certainly be a great help to the Decepti—

"Optimus, answer me!"

And… there goes his calm.

And his time, apparently. He's been lost in thought for _that_ long?

Shrugging it off, since it isn't as if he had anywhere else to be, Starscream stands up and goes to Rhinox's side.

"Please, tell me it isn't the aliens again." He deadpans, but the Rhinoceros doesn't even react, almost desperately trying different frequencies.

"No, it's not, it's… Some kind of Energon storm started in the sector, and I can't hail Optimus or any other in there."

That… sounds bad.

"Energon storms don't start just like that, least of all on Earth and _after_ that quantum surge." The Flier muses out loud, scanning the data flooding the screen. "It must've been intentional."

"Yes, like a deposit blowing up, and since there's no way it did so on its own, or that Optimus, Cheetor or Silverbolt did it…"

"Predacons. Do you want me to get Ramjet and see if we can find them?"

"I… Yes. But be careful." The engineer answers, turning to stare seriously into the Seeker's optics.

On the outside, he just nods and goes away, but, on the inside, he's puzzling over the Maximals' strange behavior, and what brought it up.

The big stasis pod with the X.

_Ominous, indeed…_

But maybe interesting as well.

Instead of pondering things any longer, he just calls the Conehead to meet him outside, and, after a brief update on their mission, they take off.

"So we're playing search and rescue now?" Ramjet grumbles, annoyed at their task.

"We're doing what we need to. Besides, it could be interesting."

"Interesting? What about flying into an Energon storm to find some Autobot descendants is interesting?" The other Flier snarls, but Starscream is too curious to have his calm mood soured by such bitterness.

"Not finding the Maximals, but what _they_ were searching for. A big stasis pod containing a creature Rhinox prayed to Primus had been deactivated."

"What?! How is that interesting?! That's dangerous!" The Conehead shrieks, and the Air Commander shakes his helm softly.

"What are you, a fleshling? Quit your panicking."

"My panicking?! Is that what it's called now? This is all your fault, yours and your slagging curiosity's!"

Startled, the Decepticon SIC turns his head to look at the fuming Crested Eagle, feathers puffed out in anger.

"_My_ fault?"

"Yes! We should've staid at the mouth of the cave!"

Oh. So _that_ is what this tantrum is about.

"I told you, I still need more time to decipher the data I got from the aliens. Once I have that—"

"Once you have that, then it will be something else! You've been stalling ever since we got here!"

And _that_ makes his anger blaze.

"Stalling?! Stalling for _what_?! For Megatron and his precious Shockwave to open a portal out of nowhere and carry us into the sunset like those pathetic human knights in shiny armor? I've been working non-stop ever since we got stranded here! I've been analyzing the technology, the knowledge, so that I could reverse-engineer it and use it to send us back!"

"Oh, yeah? When have you been doing that, exactly?"

"Every nanoklik I hadn't been thinking about keeping us _functioning_!" He shrieks, patience snapping, and feels his plumage melt into frictionless platinum. "Unlike other mechs, I actually _use_ my processor for something else that locating the next wall I'm going to crash into!"

"Oh, you wanna see crashing?! I'll give you—!"

The Maximal comm line crackles to activation, and they both freeze, letting the picking wind carry them forward.

::Starscream, this is Rhinox, do you copy?::

After a moment to diffuse his anger—or stuff it away for a better use later—the Air Commander takes a deep breath and turns his attention to the marsh extending under them.

"Yes, loud and clear. What is it?"

::Optimus called. Him and Cheetor are on their way to base to get to the CR Chambers, but Silverbolt is still somewhere under cover of the storm. Your mission is to find him and get him back. You won't be able to communicate once there, so let me tell you abo—sis pod—ing a f—::

And the connection cuts.

Both Decepticons exchange a look, annoyed but comprehending the situation they're in, before, as the winds pick up and the prickling sensation of Energon against their frames grows stronger, they lower their altitude and decrease their speed to be able to see something amidst the fog without actually slamming into it.

This is neither the time nor the place for such an argument.

Well, maybe it _is_ the place, away from Maximals, Predacons and such, but it certainly isn't the time, nor are the circumstances adequate.

As evidenced by the sound of shooting.

With just a twitch from a wing, Starscream guides Ramjet to the origin of the sound, both as silent as ghosts and mostly invisible in the mist—

A scream.

Slag silence and stealth.

Flapping their wings stronger than before, they quickly find their wayward Maximal, mostly thanks to the colorful parts strewn all over the ground.

And look at that, seems like a Predacon was left behind too.

"Silverbolt!" Starscream shouts, secure in giving away their position, because the Fuzor has a good grip on Blackarachnia—

Ah, no. It's a _supportive_ one.

"What's the damage?" He asks as he lands, transforming gracefully, with Ramjet at his back, both Maximal and Predacon not raising their weapons.

"And what happened to… is that _Tarantulas_?" The Conehead asks, crest fanning open in surprise as they get closer to the parts and finally get a chance to recognize them.

"Finally. We need to get out of here, and fast."

"Explain." The Air Commander orders, analyzing the cables and linkages hanging off the limbs, evidence that they were ripped out.

"It's Protoform X. Optimus told us he—"

**_Hunger._**

He hears the others jump at him suddenly turning around, tense and with dactyls curled almost claw-like, searching in the mist.

Nothing.

But…

"You were saying?" He asks after a moment, relaxing his posture but staying on guard.

He _knows_ there's something out there… What, on the other servo…

"Uh, right. He said it was an experiment of the Maximals to replicate Starscream's—the other Starscream, the Decepticon, not you, that is. Ah, to replicate his indestructible spark, but that it was a mistake, it turned against them, or something, and—"

**_Hunger. Fear… Delicious fear…_**

This time, they don't react as badly when the Seeker whirls around, but, on the other servo, look even more worried than before.

"Would you _stop_ that?!" Blackarachnia screeches, looking annoyed, angered even, but sh_e's afraid, he can feel the fe__ar, he ca**n feast on it, more, and more and make them suffer, make them feeL TERROR—**_

"_NO_!" Starscream shrieks, curling into himself with his helm tightly clutched in his servos, taking a step to the side—

And his pede collides with something, something metallic, somet_hing Energon stained, the faceplate distorted with horror and agony and parts everywhere, over the floor, splattering the walls, covering the other deactivated frames—_

A thunderous roar, terrifying with the delight it's filled with, and startled shouts from Blackarachnia, Silverbolt and Ramjet as they all whirl to face the—

The _thing_ shaped like a monstrous purple crab, that jumps on its position to transform into a gargantuan mech, Energon streaking over his frame like water and poisonous green optics filled with delight at the _new vic__**tims, new toys, new FOOD—**_

Blackarachnia shrieks.

A long, high-pitched and horrified sound that makes Starscream's spark constrict and soak it in at the same time—

The thing moves closer, and they finally snap back to their senses.

Silverbolt falls into a lowered stance, as if he could ever face such a creature in hand to hand combat, while Ramjet takes to the air and Starscream grabs his feather-blades.

It's just another enemy, just another big, dumb, lumbering beast that needs to be taken down.

The last one. Destroy this one, and there will be no more. This is the last—

The thing slams the Fuzor aside as if he was a weak branch, and Blackarachnia finally straightens and starts shooting with her machinegun spider arms.

And the beast _laughs_.

It laughs in mirth and amusem_ent, and why should__** I not? These are the best prey, those who fight, those who hope… Their fEAR IS THE TASTIEST—**_

And takes a large black gun and sends the Spider crashing into some rocks behind them with a single shot.

Green optics meet red, and the world vanishes.

No, it doesn't vanish, it's… the mist… the mist grows thicker, covering everything in white, blocking trees and fallen mechs and the flapping of wings as his spark _pulses_.

And it shouldn't be possible to tell with the monster's faceplate, but it is smiling in delight.

"You."

The beast moves closer, but the Seeker doesn't step back.

He… Why should he?

"I _knew_ you were coming. I felt you, I _feel_ you. As you can feel _me_."

And… it's right, he can.

The hunger, the rag_e, the joy as lim__**bs break in their grip, as screams fill their audials and the Energon, warM, TINGLY CHARGED ENERGON, SLIDES DOWN THEIR INTAKES AS—**_

_—__bright optics stare unseeingly, tendrils of inner workings spilled on the ground wrapping around his pedes, screeched pleas for a mercy he can't—he __**won't**__ ever give, claws piercing chest plates and sparks flaring as his smirk grows—_

"Yes, yes! I knew it was you!" The beast cackles, stepping even closer as Starscream can just watch, body unable to even twitch, because if he moves he can't be sure he'll stay in control. "How about we get to know each other while we dine, _brother_?"

And a red servo moves, taking his attention from those green optics to the horrified Silverbolt staring at him as he helps Blackarachnia to her pedes.

It… it sounds reasonable. He could do with some _more charge, the flight has been tiring, and the__**ir fear is so delicious… He can only imAGINE WHAT THEIR TERROR WILL BE LIKE…**_

_…_

_"I can't feel my brothers or Carrier."_

_"They will be fine. And I promise I'll get you back to them. All of you."_

_…_

_"Now, any reason you were on your own in the middle of the night and away from the ship when we have confirmed an increase on Predacon activity?"_

_"I… needed to think."_

_"What you need is to relax. Race?"_

_"What—No, no. I'm not meant for racing."_

_"And my legs are far shorter than yours, so we're equal. Race? Come on, race?"_

_"I really shouldn't…"_

_"Oh, come on! Just say yes already. I promise I won't go faster than your average falcon."_

_…_

_"This is all your fault, yours and your slagging curiosity's!"_

_"_My_ fault?"_

_"Yes! We should've staid at the mouth of the cave!"_

_…_

"I'm not your brother."

The beast turns at the sound of his voice with a curious sound, as if he hadn't heard the words.

So, Starscream decides to give a clearer message.

The monster shrieks as his black feather-blade carves open its forearm, from wrist to elbow joint, and moves away.

"I said I'm _not_ your _brother_!" He shrieks, lifting the second feather-blade and charging.

And the thing steps back, barely avoiding him, before starting to cackle.

"A null-ray! You have null-rays!" Another swipe, this one nicking one of the extra legs rising on its back like spines. "Or should I say, null-_blades_."

Starscream lunges again, and is met with a fist to the side, sending him rolling with a grunt.

"You certainly are more accurately designed. A Seeker, those numbing charges…" And it lifts the arm that was cut, the plating knitting back together in front of the Flier's very optics. "Makes one wonder why they felt the need to make me, when the Maximals already had you."

"I'm no Maximal." He snarls, getting to his pedes again, feeling the fear and horror of the mechs around them, observing, listening, as well as the glee of the giant approaching him once more.

"Guess that's why."

This time, it's the beast that lunges.

Starscream jumps, swiping one of his null-blades—no, no, don't call them _that_, that's what the _thing_ called them!—and slashes open its back, over its very neural chord, and _relishes_ in its agonized scream.

He falls gracefully to his pedes, swirling the null-blade in a lazy arc, hearing—and feeling—the charged Energon drip off it as he moves closer to the fallen monster, sharp smirk growing on his faceplate.

Oh, yes, such _delightful_ screaming… But there's still so much more possibilities… What of agony, instead of pain? What of fear, instead of agony?

And as he chuckles, the beast chuckles with him.

"Yes, yes! _This_ is what you are, _this_ is what _we_ are! Show me, _teach_ me! Let me be privy to the secret arts to make sparks themselves cry! Allow me, older brother, to _learn_."

Brother.

The smirk widens as he watches plating close, wires snapping together, tubing sealing.

And the monster rises again.

"I've told you. I. Am not. Your _brother_!" The smirk is now a snarl as he jumps, large servos reaching for him—

His null-blades pierce them as if they weren't there, the impulse sending them back along the large frame, thudding to the ground hard enough that his inner workings tremble—or is it a shudder of delight?—as the rounded but blazing tips of his weapons pierce the earth itself, keeping the beast immobilized as he brings his servos up—

And sinks them into unarmored seams, making the monster shriek and buckle as he rips plating off, as he tugs cables and Energon lines free from their protective casing, as he curls a clawed servo around a large spark casing—

A shriek of metal and Starscream is suddenly on his back on the ground, the beast looming over him with a delightful cackle and wide grin, green optics poisoning the mist with their light as a large Energon-stained servo caves his chest in with the weight pressing on it, as broken linkages, wires and tubes dangle from a torso ripped open, bathing him in tingly blue liquid.

"Yes, yes! More, show me more!"

So he pulls his helm back, even if it's already digging into the dirt, and opens his mouth far more than soft flexi-metal and thin faceplate cabling could ever allow for, feels them break, and rip, and Energon fills his intake—

And thrusts his helm up as much as he can, and the sickeningly curious creature leaning closer to him finds itself with denta clamping on its throat.

The monster lets out a broken static-filled screech, the voice box crunching between his denta as more and more Energon slips down his intake, and trashes and tries to pull back, but the servo is still holding the Seeker down and his grip on delicate cabling won't be broken, so Starscream grins as much as possible with a mouthful of wires and linkages as the thing's neck is ripped apart by its very efforts to break free.

Despite no longer being able to talk, for the voice box is still between the Flier's denta, the beast laughs.

And laughs.

And there's joy and hatred and _hunger an__**d thirst and prey, just over there, so let'S FEAST—**_

Starscream bites harder on the cabling still in his mouth, still connected to the already repairing frame, and pulls.

And whatever remained attached to the monster's frame is tugged out of it with a shower of Energon and sparks.

The monster shrieks in silence, clawed dactyls digging in the Seeker's sides as his torso is further crushed, as another large Energon-stained servo reaches for his own throat, but he doesn't care.

He's laughing.

Claws pierce lines and wires and linkages and dent the neck strut, but Starscream keeps laughing as the beast's optics meet his, as Energon falls again to paint the world a macabre vibrant blue.

And he laughs.

And knows that the monster is laughing too.

And why would they not?

It just takes a loo_k around to see the progress they've made, ev__ery single fra**me broken and grayed out, and each and every scream and plea and whimper forever engraved in their memory, and what a waste! They all died too quickly, there wasn't enough—**_

_—__terror in their voices, echoing in his processor, and black lifeless optics staring up at him with horror or pleadingly as curled servos reach for the one that destroyed them all, chests ripped apart to show the world the cracked spark-chambers, empty, but their glow, their last flash, forever etched in his memory—_

And the laughing stops as the beast lifts him up from his pierced neck.

He knows what it wants.

What **_they_** want.

So, he smirks widely again and tilts his helm to the horrified beings huddling against the rocks, to that Maximal, and Predacon, and Decepticon, and feels their fear, their _terror_, and _relishes_ in it.

He knows what it wants.

What **_they_** want.

And what he has to do.

"Run." Chocked, barely a whisper, but the three Cybertronian jerk at what was his voice.

And Ramjet, foolish, stupid and angry at him, is the first to defy his orders by lifting his arms and shooting the beast.

Energon ignites and the world becomes _fire_.

When Starscream falls, it is with a leaking but free neck, outer layers of plating dripping to the ground in molten rivulets of platinum.

But the world is no longer blue,

He knows what he has to do, and what he _wants_.

The monster cackles silently, rising once more, its own plating deforming with the heat of Energon-powered flames.

Voiceless as it is, it still speaks louder than the crackling of fire, than the roaring of approaching jets, than Blackarachnia's scared shriek as she falls down the gouge the explosion has thrown her, than Silverbolt's efforts to fly for her.

He feels it all, but the beast is felt stronger, heard loudest.

But fire burns, and melts, and the blazing pain anchors him and allows the unwanted bond to be closed forevermore.

"I am _not your brother_!"

The Seeker charges, and they crash like two planetoids, both cracking and breaking, but either destroying each other, becoming one—

Or one of them turning into space debris.

The fall is long, mist filling the canyon, and the only indication it _has_ a bottom is when the sound of metal crashing against rock is heard.

Dangling from Primal's servo, staring at the abyss that has eaten the beast, Starscream laughs again.

And this time, there's only one voice echoing in his processor.

* * *

Protoform X regains consciousness when he's pulled out of the CR Tank.

His processor, his spark, is empty once more.

But he can feel the bond, the siren call that can't be resisted for too long, for once charged Energon has been tasted, nothing else will ever suffice.

And he doesn't want anything else to suffice.

What he wants is the bond to open, to see more, to _learn_ more, from the being that extinguishes sparks without laying a single dactyl on the frame, but that does so for its own amusement.

"Welcome to the Predacons, Rampage." A voice calls, snapping him out of his musings.

Big, black, purple and copper, and sitting on a command chair as if it was a throne, and a deep blue one with a curved upwards tail on a hovering platform next to him.

"And what makes you think that I want to join?" He hisses, already finding seams on torsos and areas where cabling is unprotected.

He will enjoy deactivating those two…

And the lava under them… Why, it gives a mech _ideas_.

"Besides the fact I have this…" A tiny box, the inside lined with Energon crystals—and containing a piece of his spark.

This mech, this _Predacon_ has his very function in his servo… and he can make it very painful…

However, pain is nothing, he has dealt with it before.

But the mech has said 'besides'.

There's an offer, to go along the threat.

"Tell me, Rampage. Would you like to face your _brother_ again?"

And the newly named Rampage straightens, large and menacing and ever grinning, even if only one has ever been able to know it is so.

"Predacons, you said? I like the name…"

* * *

**AN:** Is there someone still there? Yes? Well, if it is because you skipped the gory part, here's the promised **summary**:

After finding Silverbolt and Blackarachnia, Starscream asks to be told of the reason for their terror and Tarantulas' state, but, halfway through the explanation, he starts hearing a voice in his head, and remembering scenes of massacres. Protoform X suddenly appears in all his crab-y glory, before transforming. Ramjet flies away, Silverbolt gets ready to fight, and Blackarachnia's shriek snaps Starscream out of the illusion—though he still hears the voice, can feel the fear in the sparks of those surrounding him, and keeps seeing some more gruesome scenes. Protoform X knocks Silverbolt and Blackarachnia out of the way, only to focus on Starscsream and call him his brother, stating that they can both feel the other. Stuck in some kind of trance, Starscream almost agrees to killing the other Cybertronian, but is snapped out of it by memories of the promise he made to the other Decepticons about getting them home. Thus, he turns on Protoform X, who identifies his feather-blades as null-rays—null-blades—and cackles and keeps asking to be taught more, even though Starscream is ripping him apart... and enjoying it. However, Protoform X's accelerated self-repair heals him, and things take a turn for the worse when Starscream is caught. And that's when he orders the other three to run, and Ramjet decides to fire instead, making the Energon leaking from their wounds explode. The shock wave throws Blackarachnia off a cliff, Silverbolt jumps after her, and Starscream charges and throws X down a mist-filled canyon, only to be caught by Optimus before he can also fall, the unwanted bond closed and no longer hearing the voice in his head.

**End of the summary**

About the chapter... well, the argument between Ramjet and Starscream had been long-coming, and hey! The events of last chapter weren't a complete loss, Starscream hacked the Vok! ... About the rest... Huh... Let's welcome Protoform X? Creepy fella, though Megatron still scares me more. Is that weird?

Only one thing left:

I solemnly swear that I will not write another M rated chapter for this fic ever again (and if you think this oath sounds similar to something out of _Harry Potter_, you aren't wrong).


	15. Worst Enemy

"But… That can't be right, can it?" Rumble asks in a whisper, breaking the eerie silence that has settled over the Command Center.

Silverbolt just lowers his head and ears with a barely perceptible shiver, and Optimus and Cheetor exchange a worried look.

But it's Ramjet the Weasel is looking at.

"I… can't really say." The Crested Eagle finally answers, not looking up from his tightly clenched fists.

"You're saying that the Maximals tried to replicate the Decepticon Starscream's spark and ended up with an indestructible monster that just happened to be in _this_ ship and is now running free out there." Ravage hisses, his low tone growing stronger as his snarl deepens. "And, as if that wasn't enough, that _our_ Starscream is another failed experiment like that _thing_?!"

"Protoform X called him _brother_. And you didn't see him, he was… insane." The Fuzor answers, finally looking up, but quickly turning away.

"Protoform X or Starscream?" Dinobot asks in a soft rumble, and golden wings move to envelop their owner.

"Both."

Almost as one, all visual arrays turn to the only functional CR Chamber.

The Raptor wasn't at the swamp, and, as all but Silverbolt and Ramjet, and, to a lesser extent, Cheetor and Optimus, they didn't see what happened.

But they saw the state Starscream was in when they came back.

In stasis lock, torso caved in and Energon busting from almost all seams, plating half-melted and heat-bent, neck pierced and faceplate almost ripped in two from the mouth.

Rhinox rushed him into the Chamber, and told them all to hope it hadn't been too late.

And then, once Silverbolt was repaired, they _finally_ managed to know what had happened, for Ramjet could only say 'the mist was too thick' and 'I can't really explain'.

Dinobot can understand him now, because he can't really _believe_ what they've been told either.

"That can't be _right_." Rumble repeats, with a bit more emphasis this time, as he presses closer to his brother.

"You weren't _there_. Protoform X called him his older brother, said that they could feel each other, that his… his blades are some kind of null-rays, and that he… wanted Starscream to teach him how to torture and kill."

"Starscream isn't like that!" The Weasel growls, bristling, only kept back by the other Cassette's servos on his shoulder plates.

"They _laughed_. Oh, Primus, that _sound_…" The Fuzor whimpers, curling into himself with a shudder, as Ramjet shakes himself harshly, as if that could make him forget.

"But Starscream threw Protoform X off that cliff." Cheetor points out, unnerved but still hopeful. "That means he's a good guy, right?"

"Snarky, full of himself, slagging scary when he wants to, and with the creepiest Sigma Ability I've ever heard about, but a murderer and torturer? Nah, can't see it." Rattrap scoffs, leaning back against a wall almost nonchalantly, a grimace on his faceplate. "Not to insult your abilities, Rin Tin Tin, but I think that Energon explosion messed with your sensors. You must've been hearing things."

"I wasn't! Ramjet was there, he can tell you!"

But the Crested Eagle quickly steps away with his servos up defensively.

"Don't mix me in that. I told you already, I was airborne, I didn't really hear whatever went on down there. I just saw Starscream fighting that gigantic crab, and the first thing I heard when I landed was him ordering us to run."

"You didn't hear the _laughter_?!"

"It was this Protoform X's, or whatever you call him."

And the Fuzor barely stops himself from protesting further, instead curling into himself once more.

"I'm telling you the truth…"

"We know, Silverbolt. But it could have been that you were more damaged than you first thought. Let's just wait until Starscream is repaired and ask him." Optimus answers, resting a servo on a white shoulder plate.

"That could take some time. He was pretty banged up when you got here." Rhinox points out.

"Well, then let's see how long it'll take, and then we can set a time for the next tea party." The Rodent pipes in, back to his usual snarky self, as he moves to the Chamber. "Now, says here it'll take—"

The screech of metal against metal from inside makes them all jump, quickly followed by more—

Before Rattrap pushes down on the release button and the Chamber opens with a hiss.

Starscream stumbles just a moment before shooting away from them, pressing frantically against the wall as his panicked white optics look all around for an exit.

Without recognizing them.

"Whoa, Screamer, calm down!" The Weasel shouts, attracting the terrified Seeker's attention.

"R-Rumble?" He whimpers, trying to move back despite the wall behind him. "Whe-Where—"

"At the base, the _Axalon_, with the Maximals. You got rid of Protoform X, remember? Threw him off a cliff, or something."

Slowly, his white optics regain some red as his trembling calms to a shiver, and, as he looks at the room and those in them again, there's finally recognition in his gaze.

"_Axalon_."

"Yes. You are safe here, Starscream. Calm down." Optimus answers soothingly, stepping forward—

And the Flier jerks back again with a whimper, curling into himself with his servos clutching his helm.

"No, no, _no_! You don't understand, it's not safe, it's _never_ safe…"

"Starscream, please, calm down. Protoform X is gone, he can't get you he—"

"He's not the problem!"

Silence.

The look Silverbolt gives them is a clear, yet terrified, _I told you so_.

"Starscream? What happened?" Ravage asks softly, almost trembling as he tries to decide whether to move closer or away from the shaking Falcon.

"I—I couldn't stop—I didn't—I didn't want to deactivate them!"

"Slag." Rhinox hisses, one servo slowly moving to his machineguns, but a gesture from Optimus makes him stop.

"Deactivate whom?" Primal asks carefully, taking a step closer despite Silverbolt's shivering and terrified whimpers.

"Them. The ones that… that made me… I didn't want to deactivate them… I wanted to play some more." And the Seeker looks up, and there's nothing sane in the wide grin on his faceplate. "I wanted to let them know what real pain was like, what it felt like to be ripped apart over and over and _over_! But there was no time… there was no time for that, so I just deactivated them and left. I didn't want them to deactivate… not so _soon_." He finishes with a snarl, glaring at his clawed dactyls, before his faceplate twists in despair. "So many deactivated… so many grayed out _husks_… I didn't want it to come to that, I only wanted… wanted to keep them _safe_, but _they_…"

"Starscream, calm down. You're making no sense."

"No sense? Do you know what makes _no sense_?" The Flier hisses, glaring at the Gorilla, who takes a step back almost involuntarily. "To activate in a destroyed frame surrounded by deactivated mechs because some idiots who believe themselves better decided to play _Primus_! I don't even know how many mechs I've ripped apart because of them, nor how many more I will have to, and I'm _sorry_, I didn't _want that_, I didn't ask to be _this_! I only wanted freedom, equality, _life_! I never asked to be this… this _monster_." The Falcon's rage is snuffed out in barely an instant as he huddles into himself and glares at his shaking servos. "So what if I'm good at it? So what if that is what I was created to be? I _don't want it_. I don't want anyone telling me that I can't be anything else because of… of my wings, of my weapons, of my slagging _designation_. I've _tried_ to leave it all behind, to be… my own being, but… Destroy my frame, attack my spark, _whatever_… it's never enough… The taint, the spilt Energon… I can never leave it behind." He whispers, falling to his knees and covering his helm with his servos.

And before any of them manages to recover enough to even twitch, the Cassette brothers rush to the Seeker and cling to him tightly, as if he was going to vanish at any instant.

The Flier tenses, but doesn't move, doesn't look up, and, slowly, Ramjet approaches.

"Starscream? Don't blame yourself, it was not your fault." The Crested Eagle speaks softly, but the silence makes his voice be easily heard. "No one can blame you for that, there was nothing you could've done to stop it."

"There is always something. I _should_ have been able to stop it, they shouldn't…"

"No, you couldn't." Rumble cuts, squirming to press against the Falcon's chest and look up at his faceplate. "But you're here now. With us."

That seems to snap the Seeker out of his guilt trip, optics onlining slowly to look at the Cassettes and the other small Flier.

"Yes. Yes, I'm here. I'll get you all back."

"But you will…"

As soon as those once more piercing red optics meet Optimus', the Maximal leader goes silent.

"What? Be punished? Incarcerated, beaten, ripped to pieces, zapped? Take your bet, Primal. Whatever you think, I've dealt with before. And yet, I'm still here. I'll get them all back. Whatever happens to me afterward… well, it can't be worse than what I've dealt with already."

Slowly, Dinobot approaches the small Predacons and kneels down next to them, looking into Starscream's optics, as if searching for… something he's not really sure about.

The Seeker returns the stare solemnly, already putting himself together as he straightens, allowing the Cassettes to climb to his lap and make themselves comfortable.

"I know what I am, and _who_ I am. I'm not letting anyone tell me that ever again."

Dinobot smirks, so softly it's almost a smile, and Starscream returns the gesture.

"Glad to have you back." The Raptor answers with a tiny nod, and even though the Seeker grimaces, it's clear in his optics that he's happy to have snapped out of whatever he was in too.

"What were you going to do without me?"

"You cannot be serious!" Silverbolt exclaims, startled and almost horrified. "He's like Protoform X! And he's just confessed to killing people!"

"Didn't you listen, Fido? He didn't _choose_ to be like that." The Rodent answers, crossing his arms against his chest plates.

"Rattrap is right, Silverbolt. You can't choose what to be, but you _can_ decide who you become. Starscream is a Predacon, an ally. He's not an unrestrained murderer, no matter his past."

"And talking about past, how did he manage to get out of the labs?" Rhinox asks, obviously not convinced yet, and the Falcon shudders as his optics go black again and turns away.

"There had been some kind of localized blackout, the surrounding area was without energy, and… they were all deactivated. So I just… ran away."

"And you weren't found?"

"They thought me just another Seeker."

The Rhinoceros nods when Optimus turns to him, signaling the end of his questions, before moving to the CR Chamber.

There are some deep scratches on the inside, from when the Flier tried to get out, but it seems otherwise undamaged.

"How are you feeling?" Ravage asks softly, making the Raptor turn to his fellow Predacons once more. "You got out before repairs could be finished."

"There's nothing my self-repair can't deal with. And I'd rather not… go back in there."

"Then, I suggest we get you some Energon to help the process." Dinobot adds calmly, and after a moment, the Seeker nods.

"I'm coming with you, if you don't mind. I'd like some fuel too, it's been a stressful day." Rattrap pipes in as they walk past him, Optimus talking softly with Silverbolt in the background.

"Stressful? I was unaware garbage munching could ever be considered a strenuous activity."

"Real funny, Scale-belly. Unlike _someone_, I've been actually improving Sentinel instead of stare at a map."

"It's called _strategy_. Although I shouldn't be surprised you know not of it. After all, it requires _thinking_ for it to work."

And as they bicker all the way to the rec room, Dinobot feels himself relaxing with the other Predacons, though he doesn't outwardly smile in amusement or snicker.

Nothing like routine to make everything better.

Now, if only they could have already taken care of Megatron…

Yes, he may have lost one Golden Disk, but another remains, the one they took from Cybertron, and _that_ is the one that really worries Dinobot.

But, as they sit down with their Energon cubes, the Cassettes joining in the bickering, the Raptor allows himself to relax.

They know of the danger, and they are working on ways to neutralize it.

They will find a way to stop Megatron once and for all, and then…

Starscream snorts, wide smile barely hidden behind his half empty cube, as the brothers get into an insult exchange with Rattrap.

If he, a Maximal experiment with the weight of uncountable deaths on his shoulders, is willing to go back for the sake of those he cares about, then Dinobot will return to Cybertron too, and accept whatever punishment for the theft and alliance with Megatron the Tri-Predacus Council sees fit to apply.

It will be worth it, if just because he'll be able to sit down with friends just like this when it is over.

So, he takes another sip from his drink and leans back in his seat with a small smile.

Friends.

Yes, he could get used to that.

* * *

The room is dark, but the starlight from outside is more than enough for eyes adapted to the black of night.

So, without a sound, Ravage slips through the tiny ventilation grate, helping Rumble put the cover down silently.

"And what are you doing here?"

None of them is surprised by the voice, but they flinch nevertheless.

They had hoped the owner was taking a much deserved rest, after all.

"Just checking on you." The Least Weasel answers as they jump on the berth, neither of them hesitating for a nanoklik as they burrow into soft downy feathers under bluish gray wings.

"I am no newspark, nor was this my first brush with deactivation." Starscream hisses, but simply adjusts his wings over them so that the Cassettes are cocooned in warmth.

"We know. But you still looked really shaken."

Expecting a retort, the smaller mechs can only frown in worry when the Seeker stays silent, staring at nothing.

Ravage nuzzles the Flier's chest, and, after a blink, the Air Commander focuses back on him.

"What is it?"

"Vos." The Falcon tenses, feathers fluffing out and eyes wide, and due to them being literally pressed against his side, they feel his trembling. "That's what you were talking about in the bridge. Vos, and Praxus, and when we finally destroyed the Senate."

"I wanted to have some more time to properly deactivate them too." Rumble pipes up from where he's trying to squirm under the Seeker's chest, sounding defeated.

Instead of answering, Starscream rises enough to let the brothers get under his stomach, before carefully sitting down again, sealing the Cassettes in a warm cocoon of feathers and purring systems.

It's not an answer, but as he embraces his younger brother, Ravage knows that he was right.

Not an orn goes by without the Falcon blaming himself, not since the day they found him, active amidst the deactivated, in the ruins of the demolished Vos.

That he wasn't in time to help Praxus didn't help any.

And, despite him and Soundwave's Cassettes being the ones to dispose of the Senate while Megatron took care of Sentinel Prime, his guilt doesn't seem to have gone away.

He has to wonder, though, just _what_ brought such memories back. Surely the encounter with Protoform X wasn't _that_ bad…?

"There was a bond." The Rust-Spotted Cat tenses minutely before moving so that his head and upper body are uncovered. "There _is_ a bond." Rumble follows, but Starscream isn't looking at them, haunted gaze lost in space. "That's how Protoform X got to me, his… twisted emotions… they brought out the bad memories and… I lost myself in them. I… think I've managed to close it, but…" And he shivers, eyes closing, before focusing on the Cassettes with a firmness and seriousness that makes them tense. "If I ever get lost in my processor again, don't hesitate to attack."

"Why—"

"Just _do it_, alright? I'd like to say I'm in control, but… I'm not even sure of what actually happened at the swamp and what was only in my processor. And I'm… not really sure if all those memories are mine, either."

"Whoa there, don't you think you're exaggerating a bit?" The Least Weasel whispers, freaked out, and Starscream ruffles himself with a scowl.

"_Exaggerating_? Rumble, I was fueling on—" He cuts himself with a pained expression, burying his beak in his chest feathers with eyes tightly closed, and the brothers exchange a worried look. "No, I'm not exaggerating. Just… Don't let me damage you. Please."

"It won't happen." The Bestial answers softly, and the Seeker tenses.

"Ravage—"

"_But_. But, if it did happen… we won't go down easily."

Despite the grimace and worry on his face, though, that seems to calm Starscream down a bit.

"Guess that's all I can ask for. Very well."

The door chimes, and they all turn to it curiously.

"Computer, unlock door." The Flier commands, and, with a click and a whoosh, the corridor comes into view.

And a slightly uncomfortable Ramjet looking at them.

"Huh… Hey. I just…"

"I could use the company." The Air Commander cuts, almost casually, as he gestures with one wing to the empty space next to him, and the Conehead visibly perks up.

"Oh. Well, if _you_ could…"

Without another word, he enters the room, the door locking behind him, and joins them on the berth in alt mode, curling against Starscream's side.

"I'm… not sure if I should apologize for—"

"No, you shouldn't. I've been trying to get us back, but I… have been having a hard time with the computers. It doesn't help that there are so few of us Fliers that we're almost always on patrol. But I gave my word. I'm going to get us all back." The SIC cuts, fluffing himself as he shifts to a more comfortable position.

When the larger mechs' eyes close, the Cassettes exchange a small smile and lie down again.

Time to get some rest.

There will be enough to do tomorrow.

* * *

**AN:** What is it with me and kinda happy endings lately? ... Oh well, I like how it turned out, so there, have some reactions and explanations of those reactions.

Friedrich Nietzsche: _But the worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself._

Next chapter: ... Do I have to say it? ;) Well, just know that it's written, so it will be up on schedule next Friday/Saturday. 'Till then, take care!

**Giddy:** No need to apologize (my motto is 'better late than never', after all XP), the chapters/story won't be going anywhere! And thanks a lot! *blushes madly* Yes, they explained what 'rotfl' stands for, but I love your explanation XD So accurate... Don't worry, you're not the only one having that trouble with the Cassettes (I have it too XP).

About your review to Chapter 14 (Death Shall Take Us All): I'm glad you don't mind some graphic-ness, and I'm really happy you enjoyed the chapter. Also, good eye on spotting that about Screamer ;)


	16. Day of Reckoning

The sky is cloudless, the sun is warm, and there's the softest of breeze to skim over his scaly skin to help deal with the not-unbearable heat.

All in all, it's a nice day to be outside, even if it is on patrol.

Dinobot doesn't like it. At all.

He has a really bad feeling about today…

And not just because of Rhinox's calculations about Cybertron receiving the information of their location by means of the residual transwarp wave from their brush with the planet destroyer.

Though knowing that, and knowing that _Megatron_ knows that too, doesn't help that much.

It does help a bit, however, because that means Optimus has to finally face the inevitable.

They need to act.

_Now_.

Which only makes it more frustrating that they _aren't_.

Yes, reinforcing the _Axalon_ is a good move, have to take care of the crew for them to be able to do anything, but if they just destroyed Megatron _before_ he has a chance to attack _them_, then they wouldn't have to worry about that!

The Raptor slows his angry pace, taking a deep breath to calm down.

Well, at least he's not the only one concerned.

Rumble and Ravage are busy helping around the ship, Ramjet is undergoing repairs, and Starscream is somewhere around the Phi quadrant, but the other Predacons all are of the same opinion.

The best defense is a preemptive attack.

And if the enemy can't move after it, even better.

A hint of sparkly blue catches his attention, distracting him from his musings.

Turns out that's a good thing.

Because the tendril he's carefully picking up with his claw is _definitely_ a piece of Tarantulas' webbing.

A sniff just confirms it.

It _reeks_ of treacherous spider.

::Cheetor to _anybody_, come in!::

And… the Maximal sounds distressed. Whatever may it be _now_?

"This is Dinobot." He answers, almost absentmindedly, as he looks around at the calm antelopes grazing on the nearby field, secure in their ignorance of just _what_ is the giant lizard observing their pasture. "Speak, Feline." He adds, searching every nook and cranny of the hills at the other end of the plain.

If Tarantulas saw fit to spin a web here, that may be because he expects to be around for long enough that he will need sustenance.

And that means a base.

::I'm teaching a solo lesson to Megatron and Rampage—::

Dinobot hears no more.

Rampage—Protoform X's name after joining the Predacons, which is knowledge acquired thanks to a chance encounter by Ramjet just the day before, and the reason he's in the CR Chambers.

It was just a lucky shot from the Crab, and he managed to fly far enough that Optimus picked him up before the aberration could finish the job, but it served to give them all a scare and send Starscream in a 'redecorating spree' outside the _Axalon_.

Now, there are barely pebbles where once stood sturdy rocks.

A pained cry through the connection snaps him back to the present, though it doesn't wipe out the bad memories.

"Cheetor! Are you injured?!" He calls, looking at the sky this time, trying to see any sign—please, _no_—of a smoke plume signaling a crash.

::Yeah… I'll survive.:: That's… a relief, though troubling too, because the Tyrannosaurus can fly, and what if— ::But someone's gotta follow up on Megatron. See what he's up to.::

That's better. Means the younger mech is not being followed, and thus he'll be able to go back to the _Axalon_ without further harm.

But it's bad too, because the only reason a witness wouldn't be neutralized is if the task at hand was more important.

_Slag._

"Fear not. Someone most assuredly will." He answers with a dangerous growl, and, as answer, a databurst with the coordinates of the two Predacons is sent back.

_Good. However, I have some more information to collect first… And…_

He shouldn't. He most definitely shouldn't, especially with the situation as it is. But…

Taking a deep breath—and trying to convince himself it's just to catch Tarantulas' scent to lead him to the Spider's lair—Dinobot opens a comm line.

"Starscream, do you copy?"

::Loud and clear. Anything going on?:: The Falcon answers, sounding a lot calmer than this morning.

"Cheetor just reported being attacked. He is damaged and returning to base, but while he didn't see anyone tailing him—"

::Send me the coordinates, I'll make sure he gets to the _Axalon_.:: With a sigh of relief, the Raptor obeys. ::Got it. I'll get back to you when we're in the ship. How about you?::

"I may have a lead on Tarantulas." He answers truthfully, knowing the Seeker will be able to see through any lie. "And I am too far to catch up with him."

::Understood. Keep me posted about that wretched Spider. I have a couple of legs to pluck out next we meet.::

With a chuckle, Dinobot closes the line, focusing back on the trail.

Time to do some hunting.

* * *

That… was disappointing.

Tarantulas keeps still under him, the Raptor's gun pointed at some important cables in the neck joint of his alt mode, which, apparently, also serves as a reminder to keep his voice box off.

Finding the Spider was a simple matter of following the trail, and, using the old trick of covering himself in mud, it was easy to foil whatever sensors he had.

However, the entrance was quite hard to breach.

So, the stripped Predacon took a leap of faith and, after chasing an antelope into the net in front of the hidden lair, buried himself under the soft dirt and pebbles of the area.

Fortunately, it took but a minute for the Spider to exit for his prey.

And that's when Dinobot grabbed him, and got the confirmation that no one but Megatron knows about what is in the Golden Disk, because he keeps it on him at all times.

Meaning, he will have to use the old fashioned 'spy on your enemy' to find out what he's doing, instead of circumventing the issue and coming up with a solution based on whatever data the Tyrannosaurus may have, because there's no way of getting it.

Thus, riding Tarantulas to Megatron's location.

This way, not only does he save energy, but he'll also get to the very core of the problem.

He can just hope he'll be up to solving it.

"We're here." The Spider grumbles, slowing down, and, once he's back on his pedes, Dinobot swiftly delivers a punch to his helm.

The colorful Predacon crumbles like a castle of cards, in stasis in his beast mode.

Now, onto more important things.

Like carefully getting to the top of the hill, using the large rock there as cover, to see Megatron and a large red and purple crab conversing on the other side of the tiny valley.

Rampage.

However, there's something more interesting than the famed Protoform X for the Raptor to pay attention to.

There's some kind of image floating in front of the Tyrannosaurus, coming from his tail-servo…

And a glint of gold.

The Golden Disk.

_That_ is what is on the Golden Disk.

A picture of… a mountain?

What could be so important about a—

There's snow on the mountain. But not on the one in the picture.

Meaning…

_A mountain _in the future_. The Golden Disk _literally_ contains a record of the future!_

Stunned, Dinobot can't do more than watch as the Crab changes, his beast mode turning into some sort of tank.

And fires, three missiles that, after a moment, impact on the snow-capped mountain.

The top crumbles down, a cloud of dust descending from it—

Megatron's excited cries grab his attention once more, and his fuel pump stops working as he glimpses the picture again.

The mountain in it is missing its peak.

Just like the present one.

"When reality alters, the future alters with it." He whispers, his shock quickly growing into despair. "With the Golden Disk, Megatron's power is limitless!" He has to turn away at that, unable to look at his former leader victorious and gesticulating _happily_.

He needs to think. The Golden Disk needs to go, to be recovered, or destroyed, or something. It _can't_ stay in Predacons' servos, least of all _Megatron_'s!

Right. That much is clear.

_Night is falling._

Twilight, actually.

Which… may be a good thing.

They can use the cover of the night, and Megatron hasn't yet noticed his presence, so he could arrange for an ambush as the two Predacons return to the—

Buzzing. And jets. And propellers.

_Please, no…_

But, as he turns around, he finds his pleas were unheard.

Inferno is carrying Quickstrike, Waspinator is carrying Blackarachnia, and Terrorsaur is carrying Scorponok.

That… means _all_ of Megatron's forces are here.

"Dinobot to Optimus Primal."

Instead of an answer, what he gets is a shot.

_Of course. Tarantulas._

Not that he can't really see, his vision is blurry, but those colors, and the fact he had gone undetected so far, are answer enough.

"Shouldn't take your eyes off a spider. They tend to be venomous." The smaller mech chuckles mockingly.

A second later, when his skin starts to tingle, he realizes just _what_ that means.

Fortunately, his armor hasn't been pierced.

Unfortunately, that just means the Cybervenom will take longer to fully affect him.

Not that it is exactly bad news.

Little time is better to none.

And an awake spider standing in front of that big rock…

"But they still squash."

A shot of his optic lasers, and the other Predacon is effectively neutralized.

However, as he gets to his pedes, the stripped mech grimaces as he feels his joints start to tingle.

::Optimus here. What is it, Dinobot?:: His comm spews, and he growls softly.

_Took them long enough._

"Code red. Situation extreme." He answers, peeking over his refuge again to make sure none of the Predacons have noticed the brief scuffle.

As evidenced by Rampage's and Terrorsaur's loud discussion—which ends when Megatron pulls a glowing box from subspace and squeezes it, sending Protoform X to his knees—it seems he's still undetected.

_Idiots. If _I_ were there—_

But he isn't. And he's really glad of that.

Better be poisoned and facing deadly odds than be a traitor about to destroy their whole existence.

"Destroy this valley and everything in it! The human race will never have existed!" Megatron orders, tail-cannon charging before he shoots, the rest of Predacons quickly getting the hint and taking their weapons out.

And Dinobot's spark contracts in horrified dread as they jump down.

Fire easily starts, illuminating the falling darkness of night, and even over the sound of weapons discharging, he can hear the scared screeches of animals.

Humans.

Megatron isn't going for the _Ark_.

He's going for the humans, the natives that aided the Autobots.

But that's no way to assure a victory, that—

That means… could it be…

"Megatron doesn't know where the _Ark_ is…"

::We'll be there as soon as we can.:: Optimus calls through comm, startling him back to the fact it's still open. ::In the meantime, fall back and wait for us!::

An order, clear as day.

Dinobot snarls.

"Negative!"

And he closes the comm.

Megatron is attacking the humans because he's on a tight schedule. However, he should have gone for the main price.

Unless he didn't know where it is.

And seeing how he's resorted to attacking _monkeys_, that pretty much speaks for itself.

Nevertheless, he needs to be stopped… and the Golden Disk retrieved before he manages to get the coordinates of the Autobots' location.

Now or never.

And, right now, there's only one who can do this.

"I've found it, Ravage." He whispers, quickly getting some dirt to scrub his armor with, to help get rid of whatever Cybervenom his frame hasn't taken in yet. "I found the answer. The future is not fixed. Our choices are our own." The tingling is still there, but the raw scratching is easily felt through it, so he takes it as a good sign and rises to analyze the valley once more. "And yet… how ironic. For now I find… I have no choice at all."

_"Because this is what I am. And there's nothing wrong with it, no shame, no fear. I'm a Bestial. And I'm proud of it… What if I was a Cassette, what if I was a Bestial? I was Ravage, and that's all that mattered to them. All that my family cared about."_

_…_

_"That was fun. We have to do it again."_

_"Yes. We have to."_

_"But not today. Now, it's time to recharge. Recharge, I said!"_

_…_

_"Oh, for booting up cold! You can't trust Lizard-breath, and he smells bad… Then there's the teeth. Have you ever seen him eat? And Furball here is a slagging ghost that vanishes without giving a bot a hint, running around with Scale-belly like a pet or something. And let's not even start with Screamer there, just hearing him makes you want to go deaf—But! I guess I kinda got used to them."_

_…_

_"If… If something happened to… to the _Ark_… Does that mean we wouldn't exist anymore?"_

_"Nothing will happen to the _Ark_. We know what Megatron is planning now, so we'll make sure it never happens."_

_…_

_"I know what I am, and _who_ I am. I'm not letting anyone tell me that ever again."_

_"You can't choose what to be, but you _can_ decide who you become."_

Letting his helm fall down for a second, optics black and a smile on his faceplate, Dinobot takes a deep, calming breath, and straightens, determination fueling him.

"No, that isn't right. I _do_ have a choice. I am a warrior. Let the battle be joined."

And, without further ado, he jumps.

The fall is softened by a roll, and, amidst all the firing, no one notices nor hears him.

An opportunity he uses to slash Inferno in half, purposely missing the spark chamber.

Optimus will have _his_ if he deactivates any of the Maximal protoforms turned Predacons, especially now with the chance of going back to Cybertron, and either judgment or repairs, awaiting them.

However, he isn't fast enough to pull his sword back before Blackarachnia pelts him with her machineguns.

For an instant, he almost feels grateful towards Tarantulas for the Cybervenom numbing his systems, because that instant of lack of pain before it finally registers is all he needs to pull the Ant's frame in front of his and use his weapon to blast the smaller Predacon.

Two down, no time to waste.

Ignoring the explosion of the red and silver mech at his back, triggered by the extra shooting, the Raptor rushes through the underbrush to the next sounds of gunfire.

And jumps off a ledge to land on Waspinator.

_Well, looks like my luck is changing—_

A whine of charging weapons, and he's face to face with Rampage's cannon.

The only thing to cross his processor is that the mech is larger up close than from afar, and _that_, especially for the largest 'Maximal' before the quantum surge, is saying something.

Oh, and he's bulkier too.

_There's no such thing as good luck._

But the cannon turns up, the shot going wild, as Protoform X straightens and turns to the dark sky—

_Wasn't it clear just a second—?_

And something slams into the gargantuan mech, sending it rolling to the ground, with a deafening clang and an explosion of air.

When Dinobot manages to clear his vision from where he's landed at the base of a tree, he sees a small black shape rising from the immobile crab's caved in chest.

"And _now_ we're even."

"_Starscream_?!"

Colors coming back as the darkness recedes, revealing cracks in his armor and a dangerous scowl on his faceplate, the Seeker hurries to his side in a couple of large steps.

"_You_! What were you thinking, you _imbecile_?! If Cheetor hadn't babbled about his encounter with Megatron _and_ X I wouldn't have even know what happened! And wipe that startled look off your faceplate, I made sure the cat was back in Maximal territory and that Silverbolt was on his way to pick him up before I even tracked down this place. Next time you decide to pull a moronic suicidal act, you _tell me first_!"

"I wasn't planning on—"

"Confronting _X_ is the moronic suicidal act, you _idiot_! The _rest_ is plain _extreme glitching_! I'm going to _replace_ your processor when we get back to the _Axalon_, with the control chip of a _toaster_, and spare me any more trouble!"

Vaguely insulted, but maybe a bit intimidated by the tiny Flier snarling on his faceplate, Dinobot can just lower his head in shame.

"I will keep that in mind."

"You _better_. Now get up! What are you, a warrior or a _decoration_?" The Seeker hisses, stepping back, and the Raptor quickly straightens—

And hunches into himself with a grimace.

"Slagging Spiders…"

"Great, you got poisoned. What else?" The Falcon groans, though there's worry on his optics as he analyzes his blackened and damaged frame, before a screech makes him take his null-blades out and snarl at the incoming Flier. "Just stay out of trouble."

And, without another word, he bolts, throwing one of the black feathers to Terrorsaur while he digs the other into Scorponok's chest.

The Grounder falls down easily enough, but the Pterosaur evades, which forces Starscream into transforming to chase after him.

"Well, howdy!" Startled, The Predacon jerks around, one servo gripping the tree next to him to keep him standing, in case his numbing knees decide to fail him, and Quickstrike just laughs louder. "Don't bother moving, I'll just kill you where you stand." He adds smugly, taking a step closer while the snake head hisses menacingly. "Look at you, the big bad _invincible_ Dinobot, babysitted by a pint-sized _Maximal_. What's a warrior without weapons?" He asks, obviously rhetorically, as he takes yet another step closer—

"A warrior _still_." The Raptor snarls, and, to the Fuzor's bewilderment, slams his fists on his head with a satisfying crack of the neck-struts.

The smaller mech falls down, in stasis even before he hits the ground.

Pathetic, really.

Some orns, he just has to wonder _how_ Megatron manages to get the upper hand on them.

"Good job. And nice retort." The Falcon calls as he approaches, one arm pressed against his torso due to a leaking wound close to the shoulder. "Seems like _some_ mechs didn't learn new tricks. Let me tell you, I really hope they don't get to reattach Terrorsaur's wings to his frame this time, the slagger is _learning_."

"Are you—"

"Are _you_ alright? No, don't bother answering." The Seeker cuts, snarling, as he moves closer to analyze his damage. "Look, you did a good job and all, but you've been out for patrol all day and knocked most of these scrap-heaps out yourself, so get out of the line of fire and commence stasis. I'll deal with Megatron."

"My ears are burning, _yes_." Both whip around at that, tense and ready, as the Tyrannosaurus appears around some rocks. "Why, Dinobot and Starscream! What a delightful surprise! Let's see, where are we now…" He muses, tone obviously mocking, as the Flier carefully pushes the Raptor back while standing in front of him in a ridiculous-looking but fierce protective stance. "I have the Golden Disk, I have the power to change the future, and the only remaining obstacle in my path to unimaginable glory… is you two." He finishes with a deadpanned tone, stopping his exaggerated gestures and transforming to robot mode. "An exhausted and damaged Predacon turncoat and a failed Maximal experiment." Both of them tense at those words, but the surprise immediately gives way to rage.

After all, he has Rampage under his service now, so it was to be expected he would know about the Seeker's origins.

"It's still two against one. And _both_ of us have dealt with you before, on our own. I wouldn't sing victory praises yet." The smaller mech hisses, a menacing smirk growing on his faceplate, even though Dinobot can just hear his voice.

"Ah, ah, ah." A dactyl is wagged along the sing song tone, stopping Starscream even before he can grab his null-blades from where they're hanging from his hips. "One more step and it's raining bits of early anthropoid." And, as his canon charges, pointed at the rock he'd been hiding behind, his other servo pulses a tiny button on a small device, and—

Shackled by energy bonds, obviously controlled by the gizmo in Megatron's possession, one of the hominids is pulled into view.

Dinobot freezes, optics wide in disbelief—

But the Seeker just takes his weapons into his servos.

"What is one when compared to all the other escapees?"

And, without another word, he lunges.

Megatron doesn't even look startled as he pulls his cannon away from the screaming organic to fire at the Flier, but Starscream avoids the shot and jumps, swinging his blades—

The Tyrannosaurus steps back just in time, something colorful on his free servo as he strikes, but Starscream crosses his blades in front of him—

And jerks in midair with a chocked cry, black lines crisscrossing his frame for an instant.

"No!"

Without looking, Megatron shoots at him, and Dinobot is forced to throw himself to the ground to evade.

When he looks up, horror distorts his faceplate and rends him mute and motionless.

Starscream is lying on the ground, twitching and fighting weakly, but the pincer at the end of the Tyrannosaurus' tail-arm clasped around his neck keeps him mostly still as it blocks the wiring and Energon to the processor, but it's what is in the Predacon leader's servo what paralyzes the stripped warrior.

An Energon blade, extremely sharp and slightly curved.

And easily cutting through the smaller mech's chest plating.

"Now, to complete my set. Once I have half of your spark to keep you controlled, I will have the power to destroy the Maximals, both here and on Cybertron, yes. Nothing will ever stop me, no one will get through my immortal warriors, and _I_, Megatron, will rule the _universe_!"

Another cut, another gurgling scream, and clawed servos dig through plating, but the Tyrannosaurus doesn't even seem to notice as he rips something off—

And blue light bathes his faceplate.

_Spark_ light.

"You are all mine, _yes_." With those whispered words, he reaches for the subspace pocket at his back, and takes a tiny purple box out, a _familiar_—

_—Rampage's and Terrorsaur's loud discussion ends when Megatron pulls a glowing box from subspace and squeezes it, sending Protoform X to his knees—_

He's going to rip Starscream's spark _out of his frame_.

Grabbing a stick by his side, and feeling his numb legs no longer responding, Dinobot stabs it on a pointy rock nearby and _throws_.

"Ouch!"

A glare is all the Raptor gets for his trouble when his improvised weapon hits Megatron's shoulder, but that's all.

That, and a growing smug smirk.

"Ah, don't worry, my dear Dinobot. Once I have your friend under _my_ control, I will let you two share some last words before I order your destruction." And his attention goes back to his prisoner, who has managed to dig a servo in the joint between the pincer and the rest of the tail. "None of that." The Energon blade swishes, one swift motion, and the arm detaches with a splutter of blue and a chocked scream. "And now, back to business."

And the blade moves again—

_"I—No! How should I? You… You know…"_

_"Yes. I may not be a Bestial myself, but I know some. I don't really see why you would be so horrified, but I understand why you've been keeping it a secret."_

_"You do?"_

_"Yes. Tread Rollers are considered dangerous enough by many, especially those with no experience with warmechs, and so are Bestials. Combine both, especially a Meteoroid Striker model of the Tread Roller frame type with a Grounder Bestial mode, and you get a creature out of terror stories. To those that know no better, that is."_

_…_

_"I know what I am, and _who_ I am. I'm not letting anyone tell me that ever again."_

_"You can't choose what to be, but you _can_ decide who you become."_

With a tremulous roar that deepens and thunders as his frame changes without doing so, Dinobot gets onto all four paws and _charges_.

Startled at the sound, Megatron looks up, and terror distorts his face the instant before they collide—

And the Bestial closes his skeletal muzzle on the Predacon leader's shoulder, razor-sharp teeth piercing transmetalized armor due to the sheer force he's using.

Megatron jerks, trying to free himself with a pained scream, and Dinobot feels the pincer clamp onto a forearm, claws scrapping against purple and black armor to keep his prey from moving—

But he's injured, tired.

The Tyrannosaurus jerks back once more, and his Cybervenom-numbed limbs don't follow.

But his clasped jaws don't release their hold either.

With a shriek of metal, Megatron escapes his hold, but leaves his shoulder armor and half of its inner workings behind.

Still horrified, and more than a little pained, the larger Predacon tries to get to his feet to run away—

And Dinobot pivots on his four legs, whirling tail-sword catching the Tyrannosaurus on the side with a sickening ripping sound and another scream—

Something gold lands in front of the Bestial as he faces his former leader once more with a low growl.

A disk.

"No!"

But Dinobot has transformed, grabbed the Golden Disk and blasted it with whatever remnants of power he can divert to his optic lasers before the other mech can do more than stretch a servo towards it.

Golden dust falls like sparkling snow, the fire reflecting on it, but the Raptor doesn't care anymore.

He doesn't care when he falls onto his back, he doesn't care when Megatron curses loudly.

He only cares when he hears approaching jets and voices calling his and Starscream's name.

And, after a look to see the Seeker in stasis by his side, a hilt protruding from his chest plate but still illuminated by spark light, he finally gives in to the numbness of the Cybervenom.

_You missed, Megatron._

When darkness stakes its claim on him, he doesn't fight it back.

* * *

**AN:** I'm not sure what to say about this chapter. Except... Cliffhanger! *runs away to hide*

By the way, thanks to **EclipseSeeker** for the ideas. I sincerely had absolutely no idea what to do with this chapter.

**Giddy:** About Starscream's background... There are some minor details from the comics... that haven't come up just yet. The story itself, though, is all mine. I could have been influenced, but, as far as I can remember, nothing about what has been explained is actually canon of any continuity. Agreed with Silverbolt (and glad it looked like that in last chapter). And as for Dinobot... I hope this chapter answered your questions, to an extent. Now, if you will excuse me, I'll keep running from all the readers that want to maul me for that cliffhanger, so... later! *zips away*


	17. Break and Mend

Soundwave almost jumps out of his fur at the shriek that jolts him out of recharge, accompanied by bodies colliding against his as he crouches low to shield his startled and alarmed Cassettes from the impacts.

A moment later, when the chaos finally clears, the Communications Officer manages to remember where he is, and with whom.

Thrust is standing almost ramrod straight, reddish-brown wings slightly opened while the reddish feathers on his head, neck and upper chest are fluffed out in a reflexive effort to make himself look bigger and more threatening, as are the black ones covering the top of his head and the long ones at the back, pulled up into the characteristic crest of the Ornate Hawk-Eagle.

Dirge, on the other servo, is cowering behind his Trine leader, bluish black feathers kept close to the frame, but the slightly white-speckled short fan-like crest of the Black Hawk-Eagle also flared out as his red optics quickly scan the room, soft scared chirps escaping through his black beak.

Skywarp, on the opposite of the room turned nest slash den, has his frame lowered like the blue Conehead's, but it isn't as much out of cowardice as it is worry and a try to make himself seem smaller as the black Gyrfalcon slowly approaches the clearly distressed and fluffed out dark Golden Eagle.

However, Thundercracker doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't focus on any of the other Decepticons that, prior to whatever made him start shrieking in the middle of the recharge cycle, had been content in their warm pile of fur and feather as they rested.

The reason is literally on his beak, as he keeps repeating the same word over and over.

"Star?"

There is just one being that could ever go by that nickname, taking into account everything else, despite the fact none of those here, barring Skywarp, has heard such be used.

Not that it matters.

Starscream won't pop out of nowhere just because someone called his designation.

And neither will Ravage, Rumble or Ramjet.

Shockwave has been working on trying to locate them as much as he can while still dealing with the affairs on Cybertron, but it has yielded no results yet, other than what they already know.

They're not on Earth.

The problem is that they can't find _where_ they might be.

But the war goes on, and life stops for no one, and, as long as Soundwave can still feel the bonds connecting him to his creations, he won't lose hope of them coming back someday.

It has become easier during the month since they disappeared, but the pain and fear don't go away.

Which is why the two broken Trines and Soundwave's remaining family have claimed one of the empty storage rooms as their new rest area, complete with a nest of pilfered pillows and 'rescued' blankets.

Megatron doesn't join them, but his permission and the fact he keeps the scans running to check for any kind of sign of the missing mechs are more than enough to know he's as worried as they are.

By now, they have even managed to confirm the Autobots are as much at a loss about what happened to the four Decepticons as they are, which, on one servo, is a relief, because they're not war prisoners, but, on the other, is depressing as well.

Any hint of _anything_, even from their enemies, would be better than this nothingness.

They tried retracing their steps, but the storm destroyed any clue that might have been left behind.

And so, they wait.

Though, some days, that's harder to do than others.

Like today.

"TC? Hey, it's me, Skywarp. Come on, TC, snap out of it." The black Gyrfalcon whispers, getting close enough to touch the larger Flier if he so wished, but the Golden Eagle is still shaking, blue-tinged black and dark brown feathers fluffed out as he looks around the room, searching for their missing Trine mate. "Thundercracker, _please_." And the whimper does the trick, as, with a blink, the other Seeker finally turns to the hunched down smaller mech.

"Skywarp? I… I thought…"

"It was just a memory flux, TC. Screamer hasn't come back yet." The Gyrfalcon answers, burrowing his head in his Trine mate's chest feathers as the other slowly calms down.

"No, no, it-it wasn't a memory flux, Warp, he was… he was _here_. Somewhat. I… I don't know how, or why, but…" The rest of mechs, finally standing properly and relaxed, stare at him in confusion as the bluish-black and brown Seeker struggles with words. "It started as something like a flux. There was this large green prairie, and I was flying and there were… I think it was Africa, because there were a cheetah and a rhinoceros, but they were walking side by side… So, I guess that was the flux, but then… There were mechs that looked like Ravage and Rumble and Ramjet, and some large ones I've never seen before, and they were all sitting around a big table, discussing something…" Soundwave tenses, and he can feel his Cassettes, the Fliers on his back and Frenzy between his front paws, do the same, tiny claws prickling his shoulder blades and a foreleg. "And then mist covered everything and… the shouting started, and the mist wasn't mist anymore, but dust and rust and spraying Energon and…" Skywarp presses closer to the larger Seeker, and Thundercracker buries his helm against the side of his neck as he tries to calm down. "Starscream was in the middle of it all, surrounded by grayed out husks that… they were _our_ frames. Starscream was covered in Energon, surrounded by all of our frames, Decepticons and Autobots and some mechs I've never seen before and… he was fighting…"

"Who?" Thrust asks when the silence drags on, chocking them, with Dirge pressed tightly against his side.

"Himself. Starscream was fighting himself. Only… it wasn't really him."

"What do you mean?" Frenzy questions this time, quickly curling against Soundwave's chest when the Ethiopian Wolf lies down.

"The two of them _were_ Starscream, but they weren't any frame I've ever seen him as before. One was large and bulky, and with… sectioned wings standing like spines on his back, or maybe helicopter blades. The other was leaner and completely black with white optics, and with extremely large crackling claws and feathers rising off his shoulders and the back of his arms. And every time one injured the other, the damage knit back into wholeness almost immediately, and… they were both smiling." Judging by the whimper and the harsh shudder accompanying those last words, they all know it was _not_ a good, or even sane, smile. "But then… this large dark _beast_ suddenly shot out of the mist and cut the bigger Starscream in half before piercing the spark chamber of the other. The mist swallowed everything and… and Starscream appeared. The _real_ Starscream, _our_ Starscream, missing an arm and with his chest ripped open and his spark chamber empty and… he looked at me, and vanished, and it felt like the bond broke."

Skywarp's gasp isn't the only one echoing in the room, but is by far the loudest and most desperate as he pushes back to stare at his Trine mate with horror and a wordless plea.

Thundercracker takes a shuddering breath, shaking his frame to try and still his trembling, before meeting the Gyrfalcon's gaze.

"It hasn't, of course it hasn't, but… It felt like Vos all over again, when Starscream almost—" His voice box crackles and goes silent with a hiccup, and Skywarp quickly burrows back into the Golden Eagle's chest, whimpering softly.

"We're not losing Screamer, TC, we're _never_ going to lose him. He's just away for a while, but we're not losing him, we _won't_."

"I know, Warp, I know, but… it just felt _so real_…"

After a couple of kliks to calm down, the Decepticons lie down into their pseudo-organized pile of fur and feathers, slowly falling back into their recharging states.

With his Cassettes pressed against his stomach and Thundercracker's side against his back, Soundwave can't help but think back to the Seeker's words.

_"… it just felt _so real_…"_

He almost literally shakes himself, stopping only because he doesn't want to rouse his companions, as he tries to delete that very idea.

The bonds are inactive due to distance. There's no way Starscream could have managed to contact his Trine mates.

_Not even in the last pulse of his extinguishing spark?_

Soundwave's recharging protocols put him under before he can get rid of that thought.

* * *

He never thought he'd see the day, but it's happening.

Rattrap is curled under a console in beast mode, with the Cassette brothers against his side, where they worried themselves into recharge, while he keeps an optic on the CR Chambers across the room.

And he knows Ramjet, despite supposedly being on monitor duty, is actually more attentive to the humming machinery than the screens.

He can't say he blames him.

Or the smallest Predacons.

The Eagle's meeting with Rampage was bad, but this? Two of their own against all the Predacons?

He said it to Rhinox as they made their way to the given coordinates, and he _meant_ it.

He didn't expect to find any of them functioning when they got there.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Dinobot managed to keep himself at the very edge, the very cyber-venom that should have deactivated him slowing down his systems enough that the CR Chamber could have a chance to save him. One more shot, however, and it would have been too late for stasis lock.

Even then, it was almost too late. Had Optimus not flown as fast as he did, it would have been for naught anyway.

And Starscream…

The little guy _ought_ to be deactivated.

If it wasn't for his special spark, that is.

Though the Energon loss from the severed arm and his chest being cut open almost did what the Energon blade didn't.

Granted, despite the spark chamber having been breached, he, or Dinobot, managed to distract Megatron enough that the dagger imbedded itself in the wall of the spark chamber instead of piercing the spark itself, but so many lines and wires had been cut, only kept closed by the blade, that Rhinox hadn't dared take it out in fear of the Seeker leaking to deactivation before they could reach the _Axalon_.

Had he been anyone else instead of an experiment trying to replicate an immortal spark, the exposure to the Energon blade and Earth's atmosphere would have been more than enough to destabilize the spark and extinguish it.

Of course, they're not sure if that means he's immortal, like his namesake, or simply extremely resistant, like Rampage, but they're all glad either way.

Nevertheless, it's going to take the two Predacons a long time to fully recover, and that's the only thing they know for sure.

Rhinox said there shouldn't be any adverse effects, but Chopperface was poisoned, and… well, an unstable spark really doesn't sound good.

Which is why the Cassettes and Ramjet refuse to leave the room, and the reason Rattrap has decided to keep an eye on them.

If that means camping in the command center with them and not looking away from the Chambers, risking looking like he's _worried_ about Scale-belly and Screamer… Well, comes with the job.

Because, obviously, he's not.

Cheetor hasn't said anything, hadn't mocked him, and he's sure there will be none that would do so, but…

Dinobot's just a blasted slag-spouting saurian, and, even though it's nice to know where he stands, that doesn't mean he _isn't_ a blasted slag-spouting saurian. _And_ a Pred. And Rattrap is _not_ a friend of Preds, Maximal-allied or not.

_Who are you trying to convince, Rattrap?_

He has to sigh softly at that, lowering his head to rest on his crossed front legs.

No one, that's the answer.

Because, regardless of what he first thought, once upon a time, he knows the only word that could describe what's going on between him and Chopperface now is 'friendship'.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Doesn't mean he won't give Lizard-breath an earful for scaring—er, _startling_ them like that, because he wasn't scared, oh no, scared him? Nuh huh, never, he was _not_ scared about Dino-butt's fate when they got his call.

He was _terrified_.

But Dinobot doesn't need to know that.

Though maybe he can shout at him not to scare the Cassettes, instead? Yeah, that sounds good enough. And it won't be a lie, the tiny mechs were even more terrified than Rattrap.

Because they almost lost Starscream too.

_"Creator…"_

He's sure they didn't mean that the Falcon is their creator—they did tell them he was deactivated, after all—but that doesn't mean his almost loss didn't bring bad memories back.

_Really_ bad memories.

The Maximal High Council wouldn't be as cruel as to deactivate the Cassettes' creator in front of his creations, would they?

… He doesn't know anymore.

It's a scary thought.

But, if they did…

He lifts his head again, turning to look at the bundle of dark fur trembling softly against his side, his cable-like tail barely covering them.

If they did, he is going to have _words_ with them when they get back to Cybertron, consequences be slagged.

No one tries to hurt his friends and gets away with it. _No one_.

Moving slowly so as not to disturb the smaller mechs, he curls a bit more, shielding them further from the world with his rear leg.

It may be his imagination, but it feels like they aren't trembling so much anymore.

So, Rattrap lowers his head again, once more staring at the CR Chambers.

Not even they could give them an accurate time for when the repairs will be finished.

But Dinobot is tough and Starscream heals fast—something in common with Rampage, it seems—so he's positive it won't be much longer until they're all back sitting around a table in the rec room and talking about nothing and everything, sharing anecdotes, and jokes, and insults…

The floor shakes softly and Rattrap startles back to the world to the active, not having realized he'd dozed off.

Or fallen completely into recharge, because Ramjet isn't at his post anymore, but curled against the Rat and the Cassettes, and he didn't even notice.

Movement in front of him makes the Maximal look up, meeting Rhinox's startled look.

"Did I wake you?" The larger mech whispers, looking over the exhausted but calmly resting Predacons with him as he leaves some Energon cubes in front of them.

"Kind of hard not to when the ground is shaking." He answers cheekily, though as softly as his friend and with a smirk that tells the other that he's not blaming him.

With an almost soundless huff, the green and brown mech sits down, taking a cube for himself as he turns to stare at the still active Chambers.

The silence isn't uncomfortable, but Rattrap doesn't really know what to do with it, so he pulls a cube closer and starts sipping slowly from it.

The Energon is like a balm on his tired and slightly strained systems, warming him and making him relax from the inside out, and he hadn't realized just how tired and stressed he was before then.

"Chopperface owes me big time for this." He grumbles, glaring into his drink without heat. "And Screamer. Both owe me. Big time."

"For playing babysitter?" Rhinox asks, still keeping his gaze on the Chambers, and, with a snort, Rattrap pushes his cube away and rests his head on the floor between his forelegs, his green optics fixed on the repair pods.

"… Yeah. For that."

The engineer doesn't do more than hum softly as he takes another sip, but they both know that isn't the truth.

But, since there's no way the Rat would _ever_ be worried about a couple of Predacons, then _of course_ it couldn't be for any other reason.

So, they stay silent and keep on observing the Chambers, waiting for any change—for the better, of course.

He refuses to even think there could be any—

The Cassettes shift, and his head is up and turned to them in an instant.

After a moment, though, it seems they're just getting more comfortable, instead of suffering a nightmare or something of the like.

"Carrier…"

It's just a simple word, but the longing and pain in it make Rattrap's very spark ache for the tiny mechs.

He stares at them long after they've stilled, but there are no signs of dreaming.

It doesn't mean they aren't reliving memories without him noticing.

As he curls a bit further around them, stretching his tail to wrap it around Ramjet's fluffed up beast mode to bring his closer, he can only hope they're the good kind.

* * *

Rumble is really cozy when he exits recharge.

Warm metal all around, the soothing humming of calm systems working perfectly, and the lighting dark enough to allow him to online his optics without need to calibrate them while still being bright.

A moment later, once his processor catches up with his systems, he finds the explanation for all that.

He's curled with Ravage, Ramjet and Rattrap under a console in the Command Center of the _Axalon_.

A bit of shifting makes his brother turn to look at him, as does the Rat, but the Conehead is still pretty much out of it, beak burrowed in his fluffed back feathers in that curious twisted neck position almost all Fliers adopt to recharge while in beast mode.

The Rust-Spotted Cat relaxes his embrace to allow him to move, while the Maximal gives him a searching look and a half worried half relieved smile.

He returns it with a large sharp-toothed grin, so the Rodent goes back to staring at the two active Chambers visible from their position.

And it all slams back home with enough strength to have him shudder noisily, his brother immediately pulling him close once more while Rattrap turns around with worry easily seen on his beast mode's snout and optics.

But no one says anything as, with some deep breaths, Rumble calms down.

The Chambers are still working.

That means Dinobot and Starscream are online.

"How long…" He doesn't finish his whispered question as he straightens, but he knows it's not needed for him to do so.

"Almost two days now. Rhinox said it shouldn't be much longer until they're out and about." The Maximal answers as equally softly, and the Least Weasel can only nod and join the other two mechs in their staring.

"Have there been any changes?"

"None whatsoever. Rhinox says it's a good thing, because that means the Chambers are working as they should and they haven't encountered anything they can't deal with."

The _yet_ goes unsaid, but not unheard.

The silence that fills the room then is almost dark enough to snuff out the lights.

"Aw, slag!" A voice exclaims, annoyed, and Rumble would have jumped hadn't he been in Ravage's embrace.

"Oi, Cheetor, there are mechs trying to recharge here." Rattrap calls, not bothered by the grumbling from the younger mech, somewhere out of sight.

"How did you get past level six? It's impossible!"

"Lots of practice." The Rodent answers with a large grin, and the Least Weasel finally realizes what is going on.

"Boring shift, Spots?" The Cassette asks, untangling from his brother's arms and moving out of the cover of the console to stretch his frame, joints and linkages groaning and shifting until he can finally move comfortably.

"What gave it up?" The Maximal deadpans, glaring at the screen as he tries to beat the level, the views from the outside minimized at the side but still easily seen.

Instead of deigning that with a response, Rumble snorts. And, reminding to use the 'activation code' as he transforms to root mode, he walks up to the softly humming Chambers, his smile disappearing.

Ravage is at his side a moment later, also in his root mode's bipedal variant, and, for a small eternity, they just stare.

Nothing changes.

There's some grumbling from behind them, and, when they turn around, they see Rattrap has crawled out and is stretching much like the Least Weasel himself did, leaving a sleepy Ramjet to curl against the still warm wall before entering recharge once more.

Unlike the Cassettes, though, the Maximal doesn't stop in front of the Chambers, instead walking right up to their control pads to check on their occupants.

"No changes." He tells them after a moment, bowing his helm almost sadly.

"Hey, guys, are you hungry? I'm going to get us some cubes, 'kay?"

Before they can answer, though, Cheetor has already rushed out of the room, leaving the screen of the game—showing the 'game over' text—still on the screen.

The three of them snort in unison before the Rodent goes to check on the cameras.

"So, what does the Boss Monkey say about our future plans? Sure, Dinobot destroyed the Golden Disk, but Mega-jerk isn't the type to let that kind of things stop him." Rumble asks once the Rat joins them once more, walking around the command center to do some kind of exercise, though it looks more like pacing, in the Cassettes' opinion.

"Well, I don't know. I haven't asked, he hasn't told… But I guess he's thinking about it, he just didn't want to…"

"Burden us with it." Ravage finishes, and even though Rattrap grimaces, he doesn't correct him. "We'll just have to ask him next we see him."

And that says more than it should.

They won't go looking for the Maximal leader, not until their comrades are out of danger.

Even though they should.

After all, it is their very being that is at stake here, because who can tell what this wannabe Megatron will do if he finds the _Ark_?

With a tired sigh, quickly followed by an annoyed snarl, Rattrap turns around and glares at one of the Chambers, pointing at it accusingly.

"This is all your fault, Chopperface, you hear me?! Your fault!" He pokes the Chamber with each syllable, as if it was the mech itself. "What in the name of my great aunt Arcee convinced you joining that madman and stealing a Maximal Relic was a good idea?! As soon as you're out of that oversized tuna can we're going to have words, you hear? Words!" He taps the door with his fist then, soft enough that it only makes noise, but that seems to be enough for the Rodent, for his whole frame relaxes with a last huff. "Slag-spouting stinky _Pred_."

The Cassettes chuckle at that, and, for the first time in the last two days and a half, Rumble truly feels all tension leave his frame, feeling far lighter than he can remember ever feeling.

Rattrap gives them a deadpanned glare and, in unison, both Decepticons answer with large cheeky grins.

The Maximal starts laughing before he can check himself, though he quickly masks it with a couple of coughs, looking away from the cackling brothers.

"Now, where has Cheetor gone to? It can't be that hard to go fetch some—"

The CR Chamber explodes, metal shrieking as it's ripped apart and pushed out of shape as, with a loud and terrifying roar, a large gold and brown beast bursts from the inside, skeletal muzzle opening wide before closing with a snap, the large sharp teeth cutting the air with a sharp high-pitched whistle with the same ease they would have chopped Rattrap's helm off had the Maximal not jumped away.

Not that the creature cares, powerful clawed paws pulling apart the remnants of the Chamber's door and propelling it forward until it's standing on all fours in the command center, pale pinkish optics glinting dangerously from the darkness filling the skull's eye holes as it whirls around, whirring segmented tail ripping through the table's support and throwing it at the screens with just one sweep as another gravelly roar fills the room—

And then, faster than Rumble can react, Ravage pushes himself off his brother's frame, lying where the unexpected attack forced them down, and tackles the beast.

Actually, 'tackle' isn't the right word. It's more like Ravage attaches himself to the skeletal muzzle.

And the large Bestial changes the roar for a deep purr as he envelops the Cassette with a clawed servo to press him closer, optics darkening to their usual red.

"Dinobot!" Rumble exclaims, scrambling to his pedes and jumping on the Predacon's back, trying to hug as much of the larger mech as possible and thus ending sprawled between the spine-like golden rib decorations now protruding from the Raptor's back. "Mech, you had us worried!"

"What's going on—Jumping gyros, what's _that_?!" Cheetor exclaims, rushing into the room with Optimus, Silverbolt and Rhinox after him, and promptly slamming into his leader as he tries to jump away from the large Bestial.

"Whoa, easy mechs!" The Least Weasel calls, sitting up between the Predacon's shoulder blades. "It's Dinobot!"

"_What_?!"

"Why the Pit do you have to be so loud?!" Ramjet shouts, still curled into a feathery ball under the console, glaring at them all. "Can't a mech get some recharge around here, or what?"

The Cassette snickers but, when he feels his seat shuffle under him, he quickly jumps off the Raptor, standing next to his brother when Dinobot puts him down.

And then, startling the Maximals into tiny shrieks and jumps away, the Predacon stands on his hind legs before changing to his bipedal variant—and promptly falling down to his knees with a pained gasp, curling into himself with a grimace.

"Dinobot!"

"Are you alright?"

He looks up soon enough, giving the brothers a slightly pained grin, but, after a couple of deep breaths, he straightens, turning to the dumbfounded and more than a little scared Maximals.

"Yes, I'm a Bestial. Now quit staring." He growls, snarling menacingly, but Rumble has spent more than enough time around the rest of Decepticons that he can recognize the nervousness and fear in the gesture.

Pit, he has used that strategy more than enough times, after all.

"What happened to Starscream? And Megatron?"

That snaps at least Rhinox out of his paralyzed state, for the engineer quickly rushes to the still active Chamber and starts pushing debris off of it to check it hasn't been damaged.

And that brings their attention to Rattrap, who is trembling almost badly enough to let the gun falls off his servos, trained on the Predacon.

"What. In the name of the Matrix. Was _that_?!" The Rodent squeaks, jerking his helm towards the ruined Chamber, and Dinobot grimaces and huddles into himself in embarrassment.

"I thought I was still at the battlefield."

After a moment of almost complete silence, the Rat puts the gun away and, with two large strides, stands at eye level with the kneeling Raptor, a snarl on his faceplates that makes Dinobot clearly uneasy.

"Rattrap…?"

The only answer is a punch to the faceplate, eliciting a yelp.

"Don't you _ever_ do something like that, you hear me?! _EVER_!"

Optics wide and pale in surprise, and one servo cradling the hit cheek, the Raptor can only lean away from the infuriated Maximal, at a loss of words.

"I—It isn't like I planned on wrecking the command cen—"

"Not _that_, bronto-brain! That-That—That moronic suicidal act, you _idiot_! What were you _thinking_?! No, forget that. Were you thinking _at all_?!" Dinobot scowls at that, leaning forward again to snarl at the Rodent.

"I was doing the only thing that could be done! Allowing Megatron to succeed was _not_ an option."

"And getting yourself deactivated _is_?!"

"Hey!" Two pairs of red optics turn to the Least Weasel, servos resting on his pelvic plating and glaring up at the larger mechs. "Stop that, will you? You're worse than an old married couple!"

Cue lots of spluttering and grimaces.

"I couldn't have put it better myself." A raspy voice chuckles, and, with a tiny jump in surprise, Rumble whirls around—

And almost sends Starscream to the ground as he and Ravage tackle him at the same time.

"Hey, come on. Did you really you could get rid of me that easily?" The Seeker chuckles, his arms coming up to hold the Cassettes against his torso, and the Least Weasel burrows his faceplate further against the neck cabling it's pressed against, fighting to not let the flood of emotions get the best of him.

"Don't you ever go away, Creator, please, don't ever leave us again…"

He can feel the grip around him tighten, before it changes to a more comfortable one and warm soft malleable metal from the Flier's faceplate presses against the top of his helm.

"I'm never going to leave you. I promise."

The dam breaks, but Rumble doesn't care anymore, hearing his own sobs echoed by his brother before his processor sends him into recharge.

* * *

**AN:** And, at long last, here is chapter 17. My apologies for the wait, but this one fought me tooth and nail. I wrote seven versions of it until I finally managed to get this one rolling and, as usual, once I finally nailed it and started writing, it took a life of its own. Thus, lot of out-of-character-ness. And, hey! We get to see the Decepticons again! Been a really long while...

Now, I'm planning on one more chapter to deal with things before going back to the events of the show, and I'm not sure yet whether _Transmutate_ will get a chapter of its own or be part of next one. I guess we'll see when I actually write it.

That said, I'm afraid I have not the best of news when it comes to my writing time, as next week is turning up to be a really busy one, and, since I'll start on a new job the week after that, I fear it may take me longer than usual (that is, the weekly updates, or once every two weeks) to get another chapter. I'll try, and you know I don't give up on my stories, but it may take a while. I hope this chapter makes up for it.

On a completely unrelated side note: I didn't know how much I wanted someone to tell Rattrap and Dinobot that they bicker 'like an old married couple' until Rumble actually said it. Gotta love Rumble.

**Giddy:** I can't tell you just how much your review actually helped, both the story and myself personally, because there are no words to do so. As you already know, the journal idea was one of the greatest things I have ever stumbled upon, but know that it was the review as a whole that really managed to get me where I am now. Thank you very much.


	18. Setting the Sky on Fire

He may be out of the CR Chamber, but Dinobot feels like going back to it some days.

Yes, the worst of the damage was taken care of, and there are no traces of the cyber-venom left in his systems, but that doesn't mean he's at one hundred percent.

In fact, there's enough minor damage his self repair is still working on that it's a literal pain to even walk at times.

Which means that Optimus has flat out _ordered_ him to stay in the _Axalon_ and do absolutely nothing to allow his frame to complete the repairs unhindered.

He's grateful, and a bit flustered at his leader's worry, but being babied like that is really straining his patience.

Fortunately, Rhinox acquiesced to let him help repair the command center and the CR Chamber, since he was the one to wreck them.

Which brought yet another problem up.

While the Rhinoceros is quite adept at keeping a calm processor and a nonchalant façade, Dinobot is as equally skilled at noticing certain emotions.

Namely fear.

So, while the engineer keeps his uneasiness about the revelation of _what_, exactly, the larger Predacon is, it's still disturbing to be faced with it.

And don't let him begin with Cheetor and Silverbolt. Those two don't even _try_ to hide their thoughts.

Though, all things taken into account, it isn't as bad as it could be.

While Optimus is uneasy, he's not afraid of Dinobot, and Rattrap, from their interactions, isn't apparently bothered at all.

Apparently.

Because there is something that has the Vermin's processor running overtime, and it isn't precisely happy, but he doesn't know _what_ it is.

On the other servo, Ramjet is more annoyed with his fellow Flier for deciding not to tell him about Dinobot's Bestial coding until he was forcefully dragged out of recharge by his… _unorthodox_ way of leaving the Chamber.

And Rumble is _delighted_.

In fact, the Raptor has found himself being almost literally stalked by the Weasel and his incessant questions about his capabilities in his Bestial variant, some of which not even Dinobot has the answers to.

Not that the lack of response deters the furry bug, it just makes him more determined to find out.

Cue the larger Predacon hiding—er, no, not hiding, just… sharing space with Starscream.

The Falcon is as equally restricted as Dinobot, forbidden to fly, or even transform, until his spark stabilizes completely, and thus he finds himself stuck with monitor duty, minor repairs around the ship or researching who knows what in his room, something the Grounder takes advantage of by deciding to get some R&amp;R, as Rattrap puts it, by reading in the same room the Seeker happens to be in.

And the smaller mech has no qualms about cutting Rumble's questions when he starts getting the Raptor uncomfortable. Nor does he seem affected by the 'puppy eyes' the Cassettes have all but mastered.

Fortunately, despite how bad an unstable spark sounds, in Starscream's situation it just means that it's energy level is lower than it should, and thus the Flier is more often than not found with a cube in his servos, trying to bring it up and get rid of the dizzying spells that assault him every now and then.

Luckily, a week seems to be enough to have both Predacons back to active status, though not completely recovered.

Which means that Dinobot is allowed out for patrol—_finally_!—but only in sector zero, also known as the area around the _Axalon_.

Nevertheless, the Raptor's too happy to be outside to be annoyed at the restriction.

He never knew trotting across dusty planes could be so exhilarating, but that's precisely what he's feeling now, letting the warm air and the sunrays caress his scaly hide as sharp talons scratch the dirt with each new push of his powerful legs.

Starscream has it worse, since Rhinox refuses to let him transform yet, but there's another reason Dinobot feels a tinge of something not unlike sadness when he thinks about his fellow Maximal-allied Predacon.

Ravage and Rumble are out with Silverbolt and Cheetor, and Ramjet is busy helping Rhinox with who knows what back at the ship.

And thus the Raptor finds himself running alone.

Not literally, of course, for Rattrap is calmly driving next to him, strangely silent as if he understands the Bestial's need for some quiet thinking, but…

He doesn't actually understand Dinobot.

He doesn't reject him or judge him or anything of the like, but it isn't the same as being with Ravage, a Bestial himself, or Rumble, the brother of one, or even Starscream, who, while not carrying the same distinguishing coding, also knows what is it like to be alone in a crowd due to a burden hopelessly interwoven through his very spark.

By the Inferno, even _Ramjet_ would be better. The Eagle may not have any of the other three smaller Predacons' experience, but he doesn't just act like nothing changed.

Yes, Rattrap and, to a lesser degree, Optimus, don't shun Dinobot because of what he has now revealed about himself, but that's because they turn away from that fact, they _refuse_ to acknowledge his Bestial coding.

Ramjet doesn't. And that's what makes nothing and everything change between the two of them, because the Conehead looks at _all_ of the Raptor and sees nothing wrong.

Like Dinobot was a normal mech.

He tried to ask Starscream about that, his voice stuttering and his thoughts and feelings refusing to be put in words, but the Seeker smiled that knowing almost smirk of his and shattered his world—_again_, because that seems to be a bad habit of his—with three simple words.

"Because you are."

All Cybertronian are different, even those sharing frame type, model and even coding, because each is their own unique mech thanks to their sparks and experiences, so, in a way, being different is being normal.

But for someone like Dinobot, who all his function has been taught that Bestials are distorted Cybertronian, tainted and twisted to the point they may as well not be the same species as the rest of mechs, that is a hard concept to embrace.

Yet again, his views of the universe have done nothing but change ever since crashing on Earth, and despite taking him a while, he's started to learn to accept the modifications, and even welcome them.

Which is why he'd rather be with the other Predacons, because, while he has finally come to terms with what he is, that doesn't mean he's entirely comfortable with it at all times.

Still, he should be grateful it's Rattrap with him, as not being stared at in fear for something he has no say about—because he doesn't mind the righteous wariness and cautiousness garnered by his battle prowess—is better than the opposite, even if it means only half of him is acknowledged.

He can only hope that, like him, the Maximals will learn to accept things in time, because he really doesn't want to lose his newfound friends now that he has finally accepted them as such.

"You alright there, Chopperface?"

Rattrap's voice takes him out of his musings, only then realizing he has slowed down so much that the Rodent is no longer driving, instead walking without trouble by his side.

"Yes. I was just… thinking." He answers, snarling a bit at how subdued he sounds before shaking his head to get rid of his previous thoughts. "We should return, our shift is almost over." And his legs are starting to ache, but the Vermin doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah, I guess so." Rattrap doesn't sound so sure, though, which earns him a questioning look from the Predacon. "You know, I've been thinking a bit myself—and before you say anything, nothing's broken yet—and… We need to talk."

_Aw, slag._

Nothing good ever comes after those four words. Ever.

Yet, he can't just disregard the Maximal, especially when he's as serious as he is now and with worry plain to see in how his shiny metallic ears pull back and his tail twitches, so, after a short struggle that is no struggle at all, Dinobot settles for a simple nod.

Rattrap relaxes visibly before becoming even more nervous.

"Alright. Let me call the guys to tell them we'll be out for a bit longer, and then we can go find somewhere to sit down and chat unbothered."

Unsure whether that would be a good or bad thing, the Predacon decides to stay silent and let the Rodent call Rhinox before starting to make his way down to the tiny beach-like shore where that unsavory adventure where they lost their sight ended.

Not the most pleasant memory, but they did get some good experiences and tricks from it.

Besides, with the mist chased away by the midday heat, it isn't a half bad place, especially with the soft green plants popping out of rock crevices here and there and the purring of the waterfall close by, the thin spray of water cooling the air nicely in contrast to the almost too hot sun shining overhead.

So, Dinobot doesn't protest when Rattrap goes back to robot mode and starts to pace and fidget almost nervously and looking everywhere but at his companion, deciding instead to find a nice spot next to a large rock to lie down on the soft sand, though, unlike the Maximal, he stays in beast mode.

True, there are no Energon deposits anywhere around, to their knowledge, and thus, despite his non-Transmetalized frame, he shouldn't worry about an Energon surge, but he feels more comfortable in it while outside, especially taking into account transforming still makes his joints tingle unpleasantly.

The Vermin only seems more nervous once Dinobot has finally settled down, powerful hind legs stretched on the sand while his scrawny forelimbs are crossed in front of him, helping keep the weight of his upper body leaning against the cool yet warm rock at his back, and, for some minutes, the Raptor is too comfortable to care about the lack of conversation, even letting amusement slowly grow as he watches the Rodent walk from the shore to the rocky wall and back again, stopping multiple times with his mouth open before deciding not to talk and resume his pacing.

However, the Predacon has never been the most patient mech, and, soon enough, his amusement turns to annoyance.

"I suggest leaving the creation of canyons to the rivers, Vermin." He growls without much heat, and Rattrap stops in confusion for a moment before looking down at his pedes, grimacing when he sees the noticeable trail he's managed to create in the sand.

"I wasn't aware you knew anything about geology, Scale-belly."

"And I wasn't aware staying silent was your idea of 'needing to talk'." He returns without losing a beat, and the Maximal grimaces again.

"Yeah, well… I've been thinking."

"Yes, I know. I could smell burnt rat all the way from here." The Predacon deadpans, allowing a sly grin to twist his muzzle when the Rodent glares at him. "A nice change from the stench of garbage, so I believe congratulations are in order."

"Aw, shut yer trap, wise-aft, before _you_ burn something. Wouldn't do to get you sent to the Matrix now that we've finally made sure you didn't get yourself permanently damaged." And the serious look he receives at that is filled with genuine emotion, so Dinobot immediately discards any pretenses of jesting to return an equally solemn gaze.

"So _that_ is what you had in your processor."

"Among other things." Rattrap answers, turning away to stare at the whispering river as he plops down to sit cross-legged on the sand, elbows resting on his knees to let him prop his helm on his fists.

The silence is filled with the murmurs and the muted drown of the waterfall, some chirps of birds flying overhead breaking the monotony from time to time, but, this once, the Raptor reigns in his impatience and simply observes.

The Maximal is tense, but his frame relaxes the longer they let the sounds of the river wash over them, until, after who knows how long, he lets out a sigh and allows his servos to fall to his ankles to play with the sand under his pedes.

"I kinda get it." The Rodent murmurs, his voice strangely subdued and with an echo of nonchalance so fake that it makes Dinobot wince, though the smaller mech either doesn't notice or chooses not to look up from where he's pushing the cream grains around mindlessly. "Not completely, 'cause I don't think anyone but your crazy self would understand how that thing you call a processor works, but I guess I do understand a little. Why you felt you couldn't wait for the rest of us to stop Megs and his goons, that is. And, and this is a bit creepy, I think I also get why the Preds attacked the valley and tried to kill the monkeys. The Autobots wouldn't have won the Great War without the humans, after all, and if he can't get the Energon to sustain a revolt back on Cybertron, what better way to ensure Predacon dominance than make sure the Decepticons didn't lose in the first place? So, yeah, I get that part. And I get you jumping in to defend the proto-humans to avoid that, and you're obviously too stubborn to pull out before getting yourself killed, but… I guess, if I had been in your shoes, I would've done that too." He shrugs at that, trying to lessen the impact of his words by taking importance away from that statement, but Dinobot can only stare at the Rat with wide eyes and holding his breath.

Rattrap isn't a coward, but he loves life too much to throw it away on a whim. And while the Raptor can see each and every Maximal choosing to fight had they been faced with that situation, he can't really see them forfeiting their lives like he was ready to do.

Yes, he's sure they would do it if there was no other way, but he imagines they would try to stall the Predacons, maybe shooting from above or trying to trigger a landslide—the valley's walls were steep enough for that—rather than jumping into the fray like he did, especially after Optimus explicitly ordered him not to.

Though maybe he has misjudged them, and they _would_.

Maybe. He still doesn't believe it, despite the possibility being there.

He _refuses_ to believe it.

All the Maximals have so much to live for, after all, and, up to realizing Ravage and the others' identities as Predacons, it wasn't as if he'd had anything anchoring him to a future, so what purpose did his function serve if not the defeat of Megatron or, at the very least, the foiling of his plans?

None, that is the answer.

He had nothing awaiting him on Cybertron other than a sentence and imprisonment and shame, and, after the realization that this mud ball they had crashed on was a primitive Earth, he had no place here either, for his staying after the others returned to their home planet could compromise the very future he was trying to preserve.

Yes, he did not like the situation on Cybertron, with the Predacons being second rate citizens to the Maximals, but there were better, and far safer, ways to change it than to meddle with the past.

And Dinobot had done enough harm already to allow more to be dealt.

His confusion and struggle with his belief of Rattrap's words may be more obvious than he thinks, because, when the Rodent finally looks at him, a humorless and slightly saddened smile pulls at his lips.

"Aw, don't look like that, Chopperface. What, you think I have some damsel awaiting my return with promises of a lifetime of love and adoring children and a noble and rewarding job?" The Predacon snorts before he can stop himself, but it turns out for the good as some humor creeps into the Maximal's expression as he chuckles. "Well, glad to see we agree."

However, the moment doesn't last long once Rattrap returns to staring at the river, his smile souring quite quickly to turn his expression bitter and… nostalgic? Self-loathing? Both?

"I used to work in the construction business. Best demolitions expert my side of Cybertron." There's pride in his voice and his optics lighten at the memory, but they dull almost immediately. "Until one of the idiots didn't listen, and one of the charges detonated sooner than it should have. In short, it was a nasty mess, and the boss decided to shun the blame on someone else. So, poor little old me ended up scrapping for credits in the murkiest parts of town. Wasn't that bad, though. The betting pool gave quite a bit, especially once I got to the card games and that kind of thing. I have a good poker face if I say so myself, and I was good at calling bluffs, so soon credits weren't a problem anymore. And then, this guy from the Enforcers comes around and asks me to be their inside mech in the gaming circles to try to catch some big fishes dealing with dirty businesses, and I was all like, hey, a spy gig, how cool is that?" The humorless chuckle and the darkness in red optics that immediately follow the too chirpy words are enough to make Dinobot force down a shiver, dreading, yet knowing, what is to come. "So, silly me, I said yes. And let me tell you, the movies don't capture even a _tenth_ of what is really going on in there. There was this mech, some kind of rich bozo that owned who knows how many business, all charity donations and school founder…" The Rodent scowls, ire clear in his blazing optics and the shaking of his frame. "He had this _fighting ring_ where he threw the unfortunate bastards desperate enough for a servo-ful of credits or the next dose of whatever drug was in fashion against… against mechs like _you_." The Raptor lets out a chocked sound, frame tensing with a painful jolt and servos curling into trembling fists and digging deep grooves in the sand. "Only, they weren't mechs anymore when they were released in the ring, they were… They had a keeper with a control, and those thick collars that zapped them to keep them _behaving_. And mechs paid to see the slaughter, bet on how long the unfortunate spark of the day was going to last in the ring before the keeper called the beast back, or how many limbs the mech was going to lose, or even if they would have grayed out before the fight could be called over. And then, once the… _matches_ were finished, they pitted the Bestials against each other, and the crowd cheered even louder." Rattrap's voice is almost too soft to be heard, his optics black as he presses his shiny silver servos against them, as if the gesture could somehow erase the horrors they have seen.

Slowly, and trying to ignore the trembling of his limbs, Dinobot stands and transforms, stumbling for a moment until the slight ache on his joints vanishes before sitting next to the smaller mech.

"There was this one… he was small, about Cheetor's size, and he was thrown in the ring with a _monster_ as large as Rampage. He cowered against the walls, scratching the doors to the pens, and yipping and whimpering so loudly that not even the crowds' shouting could silence him… And the keeper just kept zapping him and ordering him to fight, but he kept trying to escape and his optics… By the Matrix, he looked so _young_… But they didn't care, they just… They laughed, and when it became clear he wouldn't fight, the other keeper… he opened the door, and let the beast out." Rattrap pulls his knees up, leaning forward until he can bury his helm behind them, his shaking harsher than before and his voice strangled. "He didn't last a full klik."

Tentatively, and slightly wary of what the reaction may be, the Predacon lifts a servo and carefully rests it on the Rodent's shoulder.

The frame under it tenses, and the harsh breathing hitches and stops for a moment, but, slowly, the shaking stops and the Maximal uncurls a bit, just enough to let his darkened optics stare in the direction of the river without actually seeing it, his arms hugging his legs closer to his torso.

"I was a cocky confident idiot back then. I made a mistake, still don't know exactly _what_, and I was found out. The Enforcers pulled me out, told me to get to the colonies or something and lay low for a while, maybe get a remodeling, and that they would contact me when things calmed down enough to get back to the operation." The Rat snorts, humorless once more, and far more bitter than he's ever seen him be, before looking up at the waterfall and, beyond it, the _Axalon_. "I enrolled in the first exploration mission I found instead. No way was I going to let anyone, Enforcer or criminal, get their servos on me, and there was absolutely nothing that would ever convince me to go back to that Inferno. Turns out I landed someplace worse instead, what with the fate of Cybertron and even the Great War in our servos." He laughs then, a dark and almost hysterical sound that makes Dinobot pull away his servo and tense. "At least I did get that remodeling."

"Stop that." He orders, his voice firmer than he thought it would be, as a snarl slowly grows on his faceplate.

Rattrap looks up at him with amusement that has nothing of humor in it.

"Aw, don't be like that, Chopperface. I'm just seeing the bright side of things."

The Predacon's snarl turns downright threatening as he leans close enough to the Rodent that his hissed words fog the silver faceplate.

"No, you are _not_. You are letting the past get to you, you are giving in to a darkness that is _not_ of your doing nor your responsibility. You are letting them _win_." Rattrap blinks before scowling, bristling in a way that, had he still had fur, would have ended with it rising menacingly, mouth opening to retort, before Dinobot cuts him with a growl. "No, _listen_ this time instead of babbling without previous thought! If there is one thing I have learnt here, if there is just _one_ thing I have learnt from this debacle _and_ from _yourselves_, it is that the past is but a stepping stone to get to a future _of your choosing_, and that only _you_ can decide how to use that past, _not_ to let that past use you or dictate who you are." The Maximal startles, any anger vanishing as his optics widen in surprise, disbelief and hope. "So quit your brooding and _look around_. You are _not_ useless, you are _not_ expendable, and you are _not_ alone, neither here nor whenever we get back to Cybertron. So do _not_ dare think like that _ever again_."

For a long while, only the whispers of the river and the rumbling waterfall fill the silence.

And then, with a huff, the Raptor straightens, and that finally snaps Rattrap out of his dumbfounded and somewhat awed staring.

"I—What—You—But—"

"You are _not_." He repeats, cutting the useless attempts at a sentence from the Maximal, before turning to let his gaze observe the soft rippling of the clear yet murky waters. "None of us is. And yet, sometimes events spiral out of control, and sacrifices must be made. I wasn't planning on getting myself deactivated, if you must know. But for the sake of the future, of _all_ your futures, I would have gladly given up my spark."

And he thinks back to a moonlit prairie, racing after a tiny cat-like creature and with a guarding shadow silently soaring overhead; two tiny fur balls quietly snoring on Starscream's lap as the Seeker calmly revises their options after the revelation of Megatron's real plans; the apprehension curling in his chest as he observes, alongside the Maximals, the crumbled form of the _Darksyde_, hoping beyond hope that there's some way to get the old rage virus-free Optimus back; a large claw around his neck, keeping him still for a copper and gray former ally to shoot a hole through his spark chamber, only for that so-called traitor to fire at his enemies, allowing him to get free, and the unexpected pain of a betrayal he shouldn't have felt turning to confusion and denial and, later yet, to a relief that almost sent him to the floor.

An elbow digs in his side, jerking him back to the present to stare in confusion and slight surprise at Rattrap, who is sitting closer than he was before and pointedly looking at the sand so that his sheepish and grateful expression is mostly hidden from the Predacon.

"You're a big sappy teddy bear under the scales and pointy teeth, you know that, Chopperface?"

"And you're a sentimental fool with a hero complex larger than the moon under the stench of garbage, Vermin."

"Yeah."

None of them is looking at the other, but they both know they're smiling.

"You can be my noble steed."

Dinobot laughs.

* * *

**AN:** Early update 'cause I don't think I'll get to a computer until Monday, and that's if I'm lucky.

And, once more, a chapter gets out of hand (or, in this case, a scene that, at most, should have been just half a chapter). I'm really glad it did, because I _love_ how this turned out. However, I got some surprises along the way, and, seeing how I'm supposed to know all about the story, if not how it's going to organize itself, that was a big surprise all on itself. Like Rattrap's backstory. The fact that he told the story of his past was a surprise in and on itself, but when I saw just _what_ I was writing... Pit, I won't even try to find an explanation, because the only one I can find is that this is just who Rattrap is (this version of him, at least). The second surprise was just how much this Dinobot has grown/matured, and I'm not completely sure I can blame the Decepticons for that one. Yes, they did have an effect on him, and on the Maximals, but... I have no words.

Now, a couple of notes.

First: Rattrap's last line ("You can be my noble steed.") is his way of telling Dinobot that he accepts him, _all_ of him, and that he couldn't care less whether he's that "big sappy teddy bear under the scales and pointy teeth" of a blasted slag-spouting Bestial Pred as long as he is _his_ "big sappy teddy bear under the scales and pointy teeth" of a blasted slag-spouting Bestial Pred. Just wanted to clarify that.

And second: The title comes from a line of the song _I'm Alive_ by Jeremy Kay, because it is the musical reflection of this chapter and what happens in it, of all the emotions and the words left unvoiced but not unsaid. That precise line, _I had a dream the sky was set on fire_, was chosen because _I think it means that change is coming 'round_.

I **love** that song.

**Giddy:** I had intended to tackle the 'creator' thing here, but, as you can see, it didn't happen. It'll be answered in the next chapter instead, this time for sure, because it'll be the first scene of those that _should_ be in the chapter, so, even if it grows into a chapter of its own, it will be addressed ^^ I'm happy to know you liked the chapter, and you have a good eye: TC's 'dream' will be important further ahead. I'm not sure if the Maximals agree with that 'entrance' though, especially Rhinox, who had to deal with the aftermath XD

I'm really relieved to read that, and I hope you are right (I know you are, but I hope it applies to _everyone_ that chooses to read). As you can see, Real Life has allowed me a long enough reprieve to give you all this baby (and it brought another bunny along, but, fortunately, this is a one-shot bunny, so I'm going to keep it and nurture it and, hopefully, give it to you all soon).

You're not too far off the mark (is that the right expression?). Fortunately, or unfortunately, life is ever changing, so, while I have resolved some issues, there's always something to work on. However, this time I'm far more confident in my ability to deal with it, thanks to a lot of people, including amazing reviewers such as yourself. So, thank you once more :)

Thanks and cheers for Rumble! XD

Oh, and about your review to _Enter the Nightbird (and Awaken the Beast)_: Skywarp is a prankster and so are Frenzy and Rumble. Put them together in one room... And you have a very stressed out Screamer and TC trying to keep three slippery mechs from, I don't know, painting graffity all around the _Victory_, or something like that, _while_ keeping an optic on the other four (Ravage isn't much trouble, but I can see the other three deciding that joining the Grounder twins will be 'fun'). I hope that clears that last scene ^^


	19. Family Matters

Flying on Silverbolt's back is not a good experience.

And judging by what he's receiving through the bond, Rumble has the same opinion about doing so on Cheetor's.

Ravage very much prefers either riding on Dinobot's, where his claws can find some purchase on his scaly hide without doing more than tickle him, or being carried by the Seekers, safe in their powerful yet gentle talons.

Pit, even that time riding on Tigatron's back was better. At least back then, he didn't have to worry about becoming a metallic pancake should he fall.

Even those awkward yet curiously comfortable instances of Soundwave carrying him around by the scruff of his neck—and that odd time when it was Megatron whose jaws were clamped around him—were better, because he knew he wouldn't be allowed to fall, no matter what.

So, in his root mode, Ravage holds onto what seams he can get his claws into and prays to Primus not to let him deactivate because the Fuzor banked too hard due to a current and the Cassette slipped off his back.

That would be the most pathetic and ridiculous deactivation _ever_.

Apparently, Rumble feels so too, if the hint of hysterical amusement through their bond is any clue.

"I hate you." He squeaks, and, despite already being pressed against his helm, Silverbolt's ears seem to lower even further.

"If you don't get your claws out of my shoulder, I may find myself returning the sentiment." The Fuzor grumbles with a tiny dose of pain, and, despite feeling like plunging his whole servo through the seam just to teach the larger mech a lesson, Ravage forces himself to pull his dactyls a bit out, trying not to clip anything.

The Maximal doesn't straighten his ears, but he relaxes minutely.

And when next he flaps his golden wings, the Cassette digs his claws in again with a scared squeak at the jolt, eliciting a pained yelp from the hybrid.

"Get me down, _get me down_! I'd rather run back to base!"

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Stop pressing there, my arm is going numb!"

It takes almost a full minute of jerking through the sky before they both manage to calm down enough for Ravage to dig his servo in another less annoying seam and Silverbolt to straighten his flight with yet another yelp.

Not too long after, they finally land in front of the _Axalon_ and the Cassette waits no time jumping down, stumbling on his own pedes in his haste and ending sprawled on the dusty ground with a grunt.

A moment later, the approaching sound of jets stops with another thud, quickly followed by a softer one and a yelp, and when Ravage looks up he sees his brother faceplate down on the dirt, his short grayish brown fur standing up like spines as his frame shakes softly, Cheetor grimacing and rotating a shoulder next to him.

"Sheesh, you're an awful rider!" The younger Maximal grumbles, and the Least Weasel turns his helm to snarl at him.

"Well, you're an awful ride! Were you trying to get my spark guttered?!"

"I assume your patrol was as equally eventful as ours?" Silverbolt asks tiredly, Ravage slowly getting back to his pedes, and the Cheetah grumbles something that could be either 'you got that right' or 'I'll kill that rat'.

Maybe both.

When the lift lets them out in the command center, all four mechs step out with almost identical scowls and disgruntled expressions.

"Bad flight?"

Despite the dark amusement in the voice, the Cassettes can't help but perk up and smile widely as they turn to the speaker, Rumble wasting no time tackling the larger mech.

"Screamer! Please, don't let that crazy Maximal take me on patrol ever again!" The Least Weasel begs, clinging to the exasperated Flier as if he was his only lifeline.

Ravage is a bit more dignified, but that doesn't mean he isn't holding onto Starscream's free servo with any less than all his strength, unleashing the highest level of the 'puppy eyes' on the Peregrine Falcon as he's able to.

"Please, I don't want to fly with Silverbolt again, _please_."

Instead of looking angry or confused or worried, Starscream is trying unsuccessfully to keep his chuckles at bay.

"Alright. Next time Ramjet goes on patrol, you can go with him."

"_Yes_!"

"What?!" The Conehead protests, startling so badly that he almost falls off the chair where he's monitoring the security screens.

"Of course, only one of you can go with him."

"_No_!"

"Thanks!" The Crested Eagle lets out, slumping in relief over the console, and Rhinox, by his side, starts chuckling.

"But-But what about the other?" Rumble pleads, pushing back enough that he can stare right into Starscream's optics without being put down.

"Well, the one that's not with Ramjet will go patrol with whoever else is going too." The Seeker answers calmly, jerking his servo out of Ravage's grip and wrestling with the Least Weasel until he manages to dislodge him and drop him on the floor next to his brother. "Now scram. Go get cleaned up and get something to refuel and let me work."

"Screa_meeeeer_…"

"And stop calling me that."

"Crea_toooor_…"

Starscream freezes, and Ravage jerks to face his brother so quickly that he almost loses his balance.

But Rumble is still looking at the Air Commander with his best pleading expression. And completely aware of what he's saying.

Ravage heard him back when Starscream and Dinobot got out—more like _erupted_—of the CR Chambers, but, as soon as he was coherent enough to realize just _what_ the Least Weasel had said, he came to the conclusion that he'd somehow managed to get his memory banks tangled momentarily due to the emotional overload.

The fact that he hadn't referenced the 'slip' or repeated such during the week since the event only served to reinforce his theory.

But now, his brother has _purposefully_ called Starscream 'Creator', which not only tells them he's aware of what happened back then, but also raises the question if _that_ was intentional too.

But it can't be.

Starscream isn't their Creator.

Their Creator is deactivated.

And Starscream and Soundwave are _nowhere_ close enough to ever _think_ of the Seeker like that, not even by mistake.

But a Creator isn't such because of the relationship with the Carrier, but with the Creations.

Yes, technically, the creator is the mech that, in spark-merging creation, shares coding and energy with the carrier through spark-merge that results in the creation of a newspark.

But a _Creator_, with capital 'c', is the mech that guides, nurtures and protects their Creations, just like the Carrier, also with capital 'c', does that and, usually, more.

Cybertronian can be independent as far as a joor after the transfer of the newspark from the carrier's spark chamber to their own protoform, which will be modified after that into their definitive frame. And even then, that joor refers to the transfer itself, as well as the installation of the basic protocols and data packages from the carrier to the protoform's processor, and whatever modifications are needed to adapt the protoform to its status as a fully functional frame.

After that, a Cybertronian can be completely independent from their carrier and, if they had them, creator.

However, the actual maturing of the mech from their status as a newspark to that of a 'real' mech can extend to uncountable vorns, for there's a very big difference between having the data about something and having the experience, from knowing how to do things to actually doing them.

It's the reason why those mechs that remain with their familial unit stay as newsparks for longer than those who don't, because they have the carrier and, or, creator to care for them and help them mature at their own pace instead of being pushed to do so as soon as possible.

That's why Soundwave's Cassettes, despite the older three having activated before the war began, are still considered newsparks among the Decepticons, at least on any and all matters unrelated to actual fighting, espionage and, for some, sabotaging.

It's why Ratbat is still so innocent, despite having known nothing but war for his whole function.

Because Soundwave was there to make sure he didn't have to lose that innocence.

Ravage, as the oldest, isn't usually referred as such anymore, except maybe by Megatron and Starscream, besides Soundwave, for they are the ones that have most contact with the Cassette Carrier and his creations due to them being the highest Decepticon officers.

Though crashing on Earth has changed the contact issue.

Still, Rumble and Frenzy may be called newspark-like, or, in human words, childish, but they aren't considered newsparks anymore either, no matter that Skywarp uses that word to tease them.

So, even if Starscream has been acting the part of Creator, taking care of them, looking after them, helping them and consoling them and just being there for them, since they somehow landed in the past with these future mechs, he shouldn't be considering him as such.

They already have a Creator.

It doesn't matter that he's long gone, he's _their Creator_.

And yet, Ravage finds himself looking away from his brother, up at the rigid back of the Decepticon Air Commander in front of them, and trying not to let the tiny flicker of hope that he'll answer to that title grow any more.

Because Ravage has a Creator.

But Ravage's Creator told him that, even after he was gone, he would look after them, that he would be there for them.

Could it be that Creator is helping Starscream take care of them for him?

"Why do you keep calling me that?" The Seeker asks, voice almost softer than a whisper, as he tilts his helm a bit towards them, but not enough for the Cassettes to actually see his faceplate.

"Duh, isn't it obvious?" Rumble answers in his 'how moronic can you be' tone, crossing his arms against his chest plates, and Ravage keeps his systems in standby, not making a sound so as to not miss _anything_.

Because maybe Creator isn't really in this equation. But that would mean that it has been just Starscream all along.

"I'm not your creator."

But that doesn't matter, does it? Because he has essentially been such since before they landed on this past Earth, it's just that it wasn't that obvious back then because Soundwave was there.

Starscream has always been the one to look after Laserbeak, Buzzsaw and Ratbat. He's the one to teach them new moves, new tricks, he's the one to help them improve and stay active and as undamaged as possible. And he's looked after the other three often enough too while in the _Victory_, especially when the Grounder twins got in trouble with their pranks, though that's usually because Skywarp is involved too.

Yet again, he watches after all the Air Force mechs, from his own Trine to the Triple Changers, sometimes more obviously than others, and yet some more where it looks like he's trying to deactivate them instead.

But Starscream has quick mood changes, and hiding emotion behind anger is a common tactic for those bearing the purple sigil.

"Not by spark-code, but that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that you _are_, and that Carrier wouldn't trust you if you were anything but."

And that's all that it boils down to.

Trust.

Soundwave doesn't trust, not easily, not ever.

Soundwave weighs pros and cons, analyzes mechs, delves into the darkest depths of their processors and sparks, and judges them worthy of certain allowances.

But not trust.

Soundwave never knew trust, not from anyone other than Creator and, to a minor extent, Megatron.

But Starscream, the only mech the Communications Officer can't read, has Carrier's trust.

They don't know the full story, but, apparently, it begins even before Ravage's creation.

Starscream has proven himself trustworthy, through who knows how many trials of varying natures.

And thus, he has Soundwave's trust.

And, for a long time now, he's also had Ravage's and the rest of his brothers'.

Ravage may have a Creator, and Creator may be deactivated.

But that doesn't mean there can't be another mech that can do the same job, especially now that Creator and Carrier can't take care of them anymore.

"You are Creator." Ravage says, and there's no other possibility anymore.

Rhinox looks confused, looking between the three of them, while Ramjet has trouble keeping his lower jaw from dropping to the floor, and he can hear Silverbolt and Cheetor fidgeting nervously or impatiently from somewhere behind them, but the Rusty-Spotted Cat's attention is on the Decepticon Air Commander.

"You're not going to let it go, are you." Starscream mumbles, the tension vanishing to leave him with his shoulders hunched in something resembling defeat but that is too much like resignation, and the Cassettes straighten expectantly. "Stubborn little glitches." And, as soon as they hear the smile on his voice, the brothers throw themselves at their surrogate Creator, squealing happily when they feel his servos grabbing them by the scruff of their necks to pull them off him while grumbling in annoyance.

And Ravage smiles widely when he's pulled to optic level with the Peregrine Falcon's deadpanned glare, his cheeks hurting despite how much he's been smiling lately, because nine million years of war—no matter that four of those were spent in stasis lock—have made it hard for him to keep his happiness and joy and 'childishness' intact for anything more than tiny smiles.

But he doesn't care.

He has Carrier, five younger brothers, an older brother, and a bunch of cousins and pseudo-uncles, as well as a new Creator.

And, as soon as Starscream deciphers what little he hasn't been able to identify yet of the Vok's data and gets his servos on whatever tools and materials he needs, they'll have the means to go home.

He pushes that last thought away as soon as the apprehension rears its ugly head, bouncing around Starscream alongside Rumble to try to convince him to manipulate the patrol turns so that they can avoid another disastrous flight like today's.

Because as soon as they have the chance to go home, Ravage will take it. But it would mean leaving Dinobot, Rattrap, and the rest of Maximals behind.

And he's not sure how he feels about that.

* * *

**AN:** And another! I'm on a roll! ... So it's technically Monday instead of the weekend, but who cares about that? An update is an update, isn't it?

Short chapter is short because the other half of what would have been a decent-sized chapter started growing too much, and keeping them together didn't make sense anymore. So, have a short chapter now, and a longer one next weekend, hopefully, instead of no chapter this week and a mixed up thing next weekend XP

By the way, I'd like to ask you something: I have the feeling this chapter is a bit of a filler, what do you think? I mean, it's important and all that, but... Opinions, please?

**Giddy:** I'm really happy to read all that :D Also, would you believe me if I said I didn't think about the 'rat-patrol' until you mentioned it? XD You're right, it's far funnier now that I have remembered about that.

That it is (oh, I see! Thanks for pointing that out!).

I think they would base the point system on both, and _obviously_ there would be extra points if the target doesn't notice XD I believe hiding isn't an option for poor Screamer, 'cause Megatron will order him to catch those 'troublemaking glitches of yours' (since Soundwave left the Cassettes in Skywarp's care and Skywarp is Starscream's responsibility). Thanks for the image XD


	20. Do Not Speak

Starscream feels rightfully smug, and he doesn't care if it shows.

It took just half an hour of leaving the Cassettes with Optimus to convince the Maximal to let him implement his new patrol groups.

With the added bonus of the Transmetal Gorilla practically begging him to take the smaller Decepticons away so that he could get to a CR Chamber to deal with his splitting processor ache.

Who knew listening to Skywarp singing _The Song That Never Ends_ for ten hours straight could be useful in the long run?

He snickers at the memory, especially the part when the black Gyrfalcon _finally_ got his voice box shut off, and his grin widens at Rhinox's wary look.

What matters now is that Silverbolt, Cheetor and Rattrap are off investing the possible location of a jamming tower, while Ramjet, Rumble and Ravage have gone to check another.

They would have divided in three groups of two, but it was agreed that having a Flier on each group would be the most beneficial and… well, neither the Cassettes nor the Maximals wanted a repeat of the last patrol, so their leader and the Conehead finally let themselves be convinced about splitting them in two groups of three.

Starscream would have volunteered to go check out the third location they had narrowed down with Dinobot, but he's still on 'medical leave', so that leaves an annoyed, yet too amused Seeker and a grumpy Raptor to keep Rhinox and Optimus company in the _Axalon_.

Right now, the Predacon and the Maximal commander are standing around the table and the holographic map on it, searching for ways to cripple Megatron further than just disabling his jamming towers, all the while trying to keep their discussion nonchalant to not alert the other two of the reason why such a strategy is so important now.

Even though Starscream already knows, but neither him nor Dinobot have told Optimus yet, and Rhinox, unless he's been told and they aren't aware of that fact, has no idea that the Predacons are searching for the _Ark_.

The Seeker could have told them its actual location in a nanoklik had they asked, but, apparently, such small details weren't made common knowledge in the future, which is why neither Maximals nor Predacons are aware of its whereabouts, and why it's so important they end things here instead of getting in a race of who can reach the crashed vessel first to take command of it.

Not that Teletraan I would ever allow any of them inside.

In fact, he's glad they won't be trying it, because he's sure the AI would recognize the Decepticons as soon as they step anywhere near the spaceship.

And that would definitely tear apart all they've built here.

So, going anywhere near the _Ark_? Even if he could find some believable way to justify his knowledge of its position, he wouldn't, not now that he's spent the past week deciphering the data he 'salvaged' from the Vok's 'flying mushroom', as they've come to call it.

He just needs to decipher the last couple hundred data packages and, after that, he's sure they'll have more than enough information about how to build and operate a transwarp ray or portal or something of the like.

Maybe he'll adjust it to send the Maximals and Predacons back to Cybertron first, claiming it can only carry four passengers at a time, or something, and, after they're all gone, he'll reset it to their time and place of origin.

The future.

Though not as far ahead as their allies' future.

Interesting as it would be to take a peek, Starscream sincerely doesn't want to know more.

He's going to have enough nightmares to last him various millions of years, not to mention the thing with his spark that he refuses to acknowledge even in his thoughts.

He's not immortal. He's just… resistant.

That, or the Maximal High Council is even more moronic than the Senate was, and is making everything up as a means to experiment freely.

Yes, that last possibility sounds far more plausible.

Just some old tales twisted by age and rumor, and that have been even further manipulated to serve the twisted designs of those who seize power.

Wouldn't be the first time.

No matter that these mechs have apparently encountered the ghost Starscream, and thus know they are _not_ the rumors he would like them to be.

He shakes his helm, dislodging such thoughts and trying to find something to distract himself with.

An instant later, the increase in geological activity in the area Silverbolt, Cheetor and Rattrap were sent to investigate gives him just that.

However, both Optimus and Rhinox turn down his offer to go alert and recall them, since the lack of communications confirms there is, indeed, a jamming tower there, so that they can try again once the quakes have stopped hitting.

Dinobot is equally ordered to stand back, though, in his situation, it's because he wouldn't be as fast as a Flier.

Which means the Maximal leader himself goes to 'save the day'.

Rhinox looks understandably uncomfortable after the lift returns to the command center empty, for he now has two moody and annoyed 'Predacons', one on either side, staring intently at the screen.

After various kliks without any new information, thanks, again, to the jamming tower, the Peregrine Falcon turns to the map to find something _else_ to distract himself with.

To the Rhinoceros' audible relief, Dinobot joins him soon afterwards, and they go back to planning and discussing or plain arguing while their comrades are out having fun.

Well, not fun _fun_, but anything other than staying in the ship with nothing to do is more entertaining, after all.

Rattrap comes back covered in dust and dirt and cursing loudly about some kind of 'mismatched Transmetal scarecrow' and 'that slagging monster crab', and Starscream immediately forgets anything about their supposed planning session.

Not that the Raptor seems any more focused, either, quickly catching up with his friend—and the Seeker has to hide a tiny smile at that, because it's about slagging time they figured out what their relationship is—to interrogate him about whatever happened.

Starscream feels it before he can see it, and, by the time the lift is coming up again, he already has his null-blades in his servos and darker than black, with a snarl on his faceplate and a growl growing in his voice box, begging to be released.

Of course, that means Rhinox and Rattrap have their guns pointed at the newcomers as soon as they arrive, and Dinobot has his sword whirring softly in his servo.

Optimus almost steps back into the pale gold and bluish green _thing_ standing behind him, startled at finding himself the target of his comrades' weapons, but recovers quickly.

"Stand down. This… This is a new Maximal, from a stasis pod we found in the area. It's an ally." He orders, moving to take Silverbolt out of the creature's arms and put him in the repaired CR Chamber.

Cheetor moves inside just after that, giving Starscream a weird look as the others slowly put their weapons away while the Decepticon refuses to even twitch, but it isn't him the Peregrine Falcon is focused on.

It's the thing staring right back at him with a twisting of its faceplate that some would have called a smile.

But, yet again, it isn't the faceplate that the Seeker is carefully monitoring, but the empty red optics and the spark he can literally feel lapping at his own.

Or trying to.

The creature has no control, no discipline.

No being.

Even before even the most cursory examination, Starscream knows it's a drone.

A drone with a spark, worst of all, but with one so twisted and darkened by pain and a lurking anger and Energon-lust hidden in its putrid depths that the Seeker feels almost as if he'd made contact with Rampage once more.

But it's easy to know he hasn't.

Whatever X is, he's still a mech.

A twisted and sadistic one, yes, but a mech nonetheless.

This thing is not.

And then, it opens its mouth.

"Friend."

Starscream suddenly finds himself suspended midair before he can attack the creature, with Optimus' voice practically shouting in his audio receptor to—

"—stand down, that's an order!"

"You can't be seriously saying you're going to let that _monster_ live!" He shrieks, struggling to get out of his leader's grip without using his arms, refusing to let go of his charged null-blades. "Let me go, slaggit!"

"Calm _down_!" The Decepticon stops squirming, turning to glare at the Maximal with a loud snarl, but the Gorilla seems unfazed. "I admit its appearance is unsettling, but we're not going to—" Whatever he was going to say dies as Starscream starts to laugh, a dark and threatening sound unsettling enough that the larger mech finally drops him.

"Appearance? You think me shallow enough to judge a mech by their frame, _Primal_?" He hisses, feeling the extra energy his null-blades can't store roam through his systems, his color scheme immediately crisscrossed by fluctuating black streaks, causing the rest of mechs in the room to take a step back. "You _forget_ who I am, _Maximal_. I do not care for frame, I judge the _spark_. And that _thing_—" He points at the unsettling creature still standing in the lift, head tilted with that disturbing not-smile expression on its faceplate as its spark-less optics never leave the Decepticon. "—has a spark even darker than mine! If you thought X was a monster, he may very well be a saint when compared to _that_!"

"Whoa, Screamer, time out! Aren't you exaggerating a _little_ bit?" Rattrap asks, optics wide as he looks between the Seeker and the creature still observing him.

"X has a conscience. He can distinguish between 'good' and 'evil'. He just chooses not to care. That _thing_ doesn't."

"Doesn't know?"

"Doesn't have the _ability_ to know. You choose to keep it, sooner or later it'll snap and deactivate us all." He answers emotionlessly, his arms growing blacker by the nanoklik as the unreleased energy keeps accumulating. "Trust me on this, if nothing else, Rattrap: That thing is the spawn of the Unmaker."

"And how would you know that?" Rhinox questions this time, watching the mismatched Cybertronian warily.

"Because it's the same as I am."

The command center goes so quiet that it would have been noisier if it was empty, but Starscream doesn't look away from the thing, trying to push away whatever he may feel of its spark, and cursing Protoform X over and over in his processor for whatever he did that triggered this spark-feeling ability.

Though, on the other servo, he might as well be grateful now. Who knows what the 'good' Maximals would have done had he not warned them.

The creature straightens its helm again, the creepy not-smile still on its faceplate.

"Friend."

Starscream feels himself pulled away before he can strike, cursing loudly once more as Primal literally hands him over to Dinobot with orders to 'keep an optic on him' while he and Rhinox examine the newcomer.

A moment later, they're in the corridor just outside the command center, but, while the Raptor puts the Decepticon down, he doesn't allow him back inside.

"Will you just stay put for a moment?" He hisses, and, taking a couple of deep breaths, the Seeker finally forces himself to calm down a bit. "Look, I believe you, but you know they're going to need more than that. Let them run their tests and _then_ we can deal with that thing."

He glares at the Predacon at that, but Dinobot returns the look without trouble.

So, after a moment, Starscream lets out a sigh and, slowly, releases the charge on his null-blades.

And grimaces as he feels the slow burn running all through his wiring, and how low his energy has dropped.

"Slag."

"Are you alright?"

"Just… need some Energon." He answers, giving one last glare at the thing _still_ staring at him, even though Rhinox and Primal have already started with the scans, and, with a last snarl, turns around and walks away, the Raptor following calmly.

"You said it was like you." The Predacon lets out once they're in the rec room, with half of the Seeker's cube already gone, and the Flier grimaces.

"Yes, it is. It's just that I have more than just what it has. Even X is more complete." Dinobot gives him a confused look, and, after gulping down the rest of his Energon, the Decepticon glares at the table. "I'm not going to say there's a 'good' and a 'bad' part in every mech or any of that mushiness, but… if there _was_ such a thing, that creature would be only darkness. All the Energon-lust, all the thirst of destruction, the yearning for screams, the… Well, all _that_ is what X, the thing and I have in common. But I also have the self awareness and the _processor_ to not let myself be guided by spark-code alone. X has them too, but he chooses to embrace the thirst and the… _darkness_, so as to speak. That creature doesn't, nor _can_, have those. It's just a bunch of Energon-lust wrapped up in a really thin and fragile cocoon of obliviousness. It may seem naïve and… newspark-like, but it won't stay like that for long. There's too much power there, too much darkness, for it to stay inoffensive for too long."

"Slag."

Starscream's smile is humorless, and Dinobot gulps.

"Slag, indeed. Come on, let's see if I can convince Primal to let me rip out its spark." He answers, getting back to his pedes, with the Predacon following with an amused smirk.

"If you word it like that, I doubt it."

If the Seeker was human, he would have rolled his eyes.

Since he isn't he just gives the larger mech a _look_.

"Whatever would I do without you." He finally answers in a deadpanned tone, and the Raptor snickers softly.

"Get in trouble with Optimus."

"Smart-aft."

"Gull."

Starscream jerks back to the larger mech, staring at the Predacon with a mixture of _I can't have heard what I heard_ and _how many chips have you blown up this time_.

"Gull." He repeats, as if to make sure, and Dinobot's smirk widens.

"They are resourceful, inquisitive and intelligent scavengers that do nothing but squawk."

"You're hilarious."

"They also prey on crabs."

The Seeker almost jumps at that, turning pale wide optics to the larger mech, who simply stares ahead as he keeps walking down the corridor with the smirk still on his faceplate, as if he hasn't noticed his companion has stopped in shock.

Crabs. Protoform X. Rampage.

That's… quite flattering, truth be told.

He chuckles softly, feeling more relaxed already, and orders his legs to start moving again to catch up with the Predacon—

It is like the crackle of static.

If static could ever course through his frame like a lightning bolt.

He stumbles with a pained gasp, clawed servos quickly reaching to press against his chest plates as he feels his spark flicker painfully, a bond that shouldn't be trying to be ripped open from the other side.

He hears Dinobot shout his name, feels his servos on his shoulder plates and words spoken so quickly that his addled processor can't decipher them, all his attention on trying to keep the bond closed and the events in a foggy swamp locked away in the darkest recesses of his memory banks.

And suddenly, the servos on him are gone, and he forces a shred of consciousness to the outside of his trembling frame to try and make out what is going on.

He sees nothing, for the Predacon is blocking the corridor with his larger frame, but he can hear.

The whooshing of the rotating shield, the whirring of the sectioned sword, the threatening snarl permeating unrecognizable words, a warning and a threat at the same time.

And then, a different voice.

"Friend."

Starscream's only thought is _how the _Pit_ did that thing leave the command center?!_

The next is even worse.

_What has it done to the Maximals?_

Before he can do more than try to focus on the present, a strange frame-racking not-screech assaults him, the energy coursing through his frame both a blessing and a curse, for his spark quickly latches onto it to reinforce the lock on the bond with X, but his not yet fully recovered sensory net screams in agony at the wave of unknown power rushing through it.

He's hit by something large and metallic and kind of organic when the sonic wave, or whatever it is, reaches its highest setting, and, a moment later, he's rebooting his optics and trying to make sense of why the corridor seems to have been turned upside down and how can Dinobot be lying on the floor-turned-ceiling without falling.

A moment later, he realizes that _he_ is the one lying on his back with his helm pulled so far back that his neck struts are at the brink of misaligning.

And Dinobot isn't moving.

"Friend."

He tries to jerk up at that, but his frame rebels, the echoes of that sonic wave numbing the signals from his processor and spark and making him twitch erratically instead.

A servo curls around his neck, pulling him up, and he's suddenly faceplate to faceplate with the _thing_'s spark-less optics and not-smile.

"Fly."

_Aw, sla—_

The hit hurts, his neck struts creaking dangerously as the crash through the ceiling throws his helm back with enough strength that they would have snapped if not for the creature's servo keeping his neck somewhat straight, but the worst is the moments of dizziness, of trying to get his optics to filter the static and _focus, slaggit!_

The rest of his frame, fortunately, is finally starting to clear his sensors and wiring, allowing him to clasp his servos around the thing's wrist and dig his claws in it, trying to sever it from the arm.

A strange not-cry escapes from the creature's voice box, and the servo around his neck lets go—

And he slams to the ground a moment later, fortunately from a short enough distance that he just gets dents.

His optics are finally working again, but he doesn't need them to know they're not alone.

Nor who is it with them.

"Ah, my dear brother. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"X." He spits, getting to his knees and immediately taking his null-blades out.

"It's Rampage now." The Crab cackles, a large twisted smirk on his faceplate, but at least there's emotion in his optics.

Even if its just sharp dark glee, Starscream feels better already.

So, he quickly turns around to face the thing, which is studying the Energon dripping from the cuts in its wrist with emotionless yet incredibly focused fascination.

"I see you've met my new friend. I call it Transmutate. An amazing creature, don't you think, brother?"

"Amazingly _disgusting_." He snarls, one audial focused on the Predacon's heavy pede-steps moving closer. "Even you can see it's nothing but a processor-less _monster_."

"Precisely. And that's what makes it all the better." X purrs, almost literally behind him, and Starscream moves back, away from both the Crab and the mismatched creature.

"Friend." It calls, finally looking up from its stained wrist and servo, and Rampage chuckles lowly.

"Yes, friend. I'm your friend, and he is your friend too. We three are the same. We belong together."

"Stop! This one is not for you." A new voice calls, and the three break their glaring standstill to turn to where Silverbolt is perched atop a rock in beast mode, snarling at them.

"It is _only_ for us!"

"Don't mix me with your ilk!" Starscream shouts, null-blades going black but extra energy quickly spreading through the rest of his frame, his systems rebelling against holding it as they should after the creature's stunt.

With a pained gasp, and plasma burning through his frame, the Seeker lets the tail feathers fall as his knees buckle and he curls into himself with a pained whimper, willing the energy running amok through himself to cease its assault, for his spark to reabsorb it as it should.

When he can finally focus on the world again, the first thing he notices is the clanging and the cracking of rock, and he immediately jerks his helm up to see a terrified but determined Silverbolt trying with all his might to keep a delighted Rampage's clawed pede from crushing him.

Unfortunately, they're at the border of the cliff and, soon enough, the rock gives way, sending them both tumbling down.

With a muttered curse, the Decepticon gets to his pedes and stumbles towards the edge, seeing both mechs slowly getting up to their knees—

A wave of something dark, something foul and twisted and _thirsty_, washes over him, and, berating himself for his carelessness, the Flier quickly turns around to locate the thing—

And finds it with Energon dribbling down its faceplate from its blue-stained lips, optics a pinprick of red in a pit of darkness, and that tiny twisting its lips had been conforming before now turned into a large and completely insane grin-like expression extending from side to side of its faceplate, revealing numerous tiny long denta, sharp as needles, as its Energon-dripping wrist is lowered to its side again.

"**_Friend._**" It croaks, the static-like disturbance in its voice now ten times worse, distorting the word in a macabre prelude of what it will do to metal and spark, and Starscream feels his systems lock.

_Slag. Slag, slag slag slagslagslag__**slagslagSLAG—**_

It's not staring at him.

It's looking at the drop just behind the Flier and, as it takes a step forward with its disturbing full frame swaying characteristic motion, the Decepticon scurries backwards—

And his dactyls land on wet sand.

Blue liquid stains his claws from when he attacked the thing, true, but this… this Energon dribbles down, staining rock and—

White armor and golden feathers.

"**_Friend._**"

"_Silverbolt_!"

The Maximal looks up as Starscream throws himself off the cliff, changing halfway so that he can maneuver himself into a controlled crash to send the Fuzor tumbling under him, just as the creature floats down with its not-screeched sonic wave blanketing the area, growing in intensity more and more than ever before, the purplish energy surrounding it turning white and then blue as its spark breaks and shoots out to find **_prey_**—

The Decepticon can hear X's cry echoing his own before an explosion accompanied by a _real_ shriek drowns it, the shockwave making him press further against the trembling Maximal curled under his wings.

And then, it's over.

Optics white and black frame streaked with bluish lightning arcing over his plating, Starscream slowly straightens to see Rampage's burnt and shredded back and crab legs start to knit back together as he gets to his knees, his ever present grin somehow looking hollow and his optics too wide and pale as he stares at the broken remains of the thing he referred to as Transmutate.

As he sees the large red frame slowly stop shaking, the Seeker finally realizes what the Predacon feels.

Fear.

For half a nanoklik, he feels almost bad for him.

But then, X starts laughing that mad cackle of his and shakily gets to his pedes, the thrill of surviving such an experience and the Energon-lust filling his optics once more.

He turns to the smaller mech and the Fuzor still curled in a shaking ball on the ground, but one look of white optics and lightning-streaked black wings opening wide, sand turning to glass under sharp talons, are more than enough to make the Crab take a step away.

"It has been nice seeing you again, brother. We should do this more often."

Without another word, he changes to beast mode and scurries away as fast as his eight legs can carry him.

Too tired, yet not tired at all, Starscream straightens and starts flapping his wings without rising from the ground, trying to burn off enough energy to get his color scheme back and transform without getting jolted.

By the time Optimus and Cheetor find them and Silverbolt has managed to calm down enough to get up and stop trembling, the Decepticon is back to root mode, no hint of white in his optics or any extra black on his frame, and feeling stronger and better than ever.

"We're all fine, the strange mech sneaked past us while we were discussing what to do with it. Dinobot's alright, he was just a bit confused when he managed to clear his processor, but Rhinox said he won't need to get in the CR Chamber. What about you? What happened here?" The Maximal leader asks once they land and answer the Seeker's questions, surprise in his faceplate as he stares at the destroyed pieces strewn all around them and the scorch marks.

"Let's just say I told you so. You're lucky it was even worse off than any of us knew." The Gorilla shudders at that, staring at the tiny Flier with unbelieving optics, but Starscream knows he just needs a moment to process things.

"We extinguished its spark before we ever saw its true light." The Fuzor whispers, saddened, as he looks down at his servos, but, despite feeling like it, the Seeker doesn't scoff.

Instead, he looks at the unrecognizable mess of cabling that was the creature's helm, and has to cross his arms against his chest plates before any of them realize he's trembling.

"That last explosion was its true light, Silverbolt. If it had been a mech once, none of us ever got a chance to meet them."

"It was trying to stop the fight, wasn't it? It thought Rampage was a friend too…"

A faceplate-splitting Energon-stained grin, pinprick of red at the bottom of pits of darkness, needle-like denta and a voice that could rip sparks apart.

"Yes, Bolt. It was trying to stop the fight."

_Just not in the way you would have wanted._

* * *

**AN:** Slag it all, Starscream, can't you be anywhere near Rampage _without_ the chapter turning into a horror story?!

Alright, sorry about that, but I'm going to have nightmares about this... *shiver* Anyway, this was supposed to be the second half of last chapter, just a tiny view of Transmutate's visit to the _Axalon_, and that's that, 'cause I never cared a lot about the episode, it felt more like a filler at the time. Only, when I checked the episode again to make sure I didn't butcher the scene I wanted to write, I... noticed things. Like Rampage saying _"the Darkness of its spark echoes my own!",_ and how _"its logic circuits are barely at the level of a drone"_, and things... spiralled. Badly. Put that together with me getting an interest in _Five Nights at Freddy's_ lately and Transmutate reminding me of The Puppet from _Five Nights at Freddy's 2_, and about that bond between Rampage and Screamer and Rampage's ability to 'sense' sparks... And you get a nightmare. Fortunately, this time is not M rated.

A bit of explanation: Silverbolt doesn't know about Starscream's 'scene' in the command center 'cause he was in stasis and put in the CR Chamber, and, during the fight with Rampage, he just saw Transmutate as the oblivious, newspark-like weird-looking Maximal he considers a new friend, so he didn't realize its last actions were it trying to kill them all instead of saving them. And, in a rare moment of compassion/not-going-to-slap-you-in-the-faceplate-with-reality, Starscream decided to let him remember Transmutate as he wanted.

By the way, the title of this chapter is from one of Rampage's lines in the original episode: _"Do not speak. None shall hurt you now. Come with me, come. I will protect you... I am your friend. Your only friend."_ I always thought it weird someone like Rampage could just go all friendly with anybody, least of all because of their power and that weird 'empathy'. At the time, I didn't notice that about the darkness of the spark, so I just saw Transmutate as the childish weird thing he looks like, and I thought it was even weirder. Now, I've given it a more... sinister twist. Somehow, it fits a whole lot better.

About the next chapters... It'll be a while until they're ready, 'cause I want to have the three _The Agenda_ episodes dealt with at once, meaning I want the resulting chapters to be already written before starting to post, so as to not leave you all waiting for the next one for weeks. And, unfortunately, that means it will take a while, because I don't have too much free time to write (this chapter was half-written a while back, so I just had to finish it and check for mistakes, and even that took me far longer than I wanted). Until then, I hope this chapter doesn't give you (too many) nightmares XP

Read you later!


	21. Finding the Way

The cable sizzles for a bit before finally detaching and Rumble is quick to grab it before it can get lost in the mess they're dealing with.

"Got it! Where to now?" The Cassette asks, turning to look up at Rattrap, who is examining the new connections they've been making for the past two hours.

"Eh, I'd say here, but give me a sec, Short Stuff."

"Need to reboot that old thing you call a processor, Garbage Muncher?"

"You've got no right to call me that when you eat as much as I do, you furry snake. Even worse!" The Maximal protests, glaring at the smirking Predacon.

"Nuh huh, I don't eat things that two days before were known as 'food going bad'." The smaller mech retorts, shaking the cable dangling from his servo as he waggles a dactyl.

"It wasn't _fully_ bad. Besides, it was just once!"

"That's not what Dinobot says."

"Dino-butt says a lot of things you shouldn't listen to." The Rat deadpans, holding a servo out. "Now give me that, I need to connect these two and then we're done here." He adds, shrugging the topic off with ease as he taps some of the machinery they're fiddling with.

Rhinox said the shock wave from the transwarp explosion that changed them should be reaching Cybertron by now, which means someone will finally be able to track them down and take them back.

But it also implies Megatron acting bolder, more desperate, to try to do something before such an event.

So, everyone is working their hardest to improve the _Axalon_'s defense, the eagerness and hope almost literally palpable… as are the uneasiness and fear from the Predacons in their midst.

Dinobot is resigned, an air of defeat tampered by something resembling relief surrounding him at their approaching chance to return home, and the reason is, obviously, the trial and consequent punishment awaiting him.

Even though Rattrap has promised to call in all the favors even the lowest of scum he dealt with owe him to give him a slap on the wrist instead of a full blown penalty, there's no getting rid of that pessimism.

Because both of them know it will be a hard battle to win.

And then, there's the rest of Predacons.

Ramjet is uncomfortable, nervous, looking to Starscream even more than usual for any kind of guidance, and growing clumsier due to his agitation by the day. Most often than not it's amusing, but, sometimes, it's _annoying_.

The Cassettes seem to be taking it better, but there's no mistaking the worry in almost their every move, how they're beginning to act like the newsparks they always deny being, and that makes the Maximals and Dinobot wonder and worry.

And then, there's Starscream. Instead of worrying, the Flier is getting frustrated, snapping more easily and always busy, though there's nowhere near as much work as whatever he's doing.

Or seems to be doing.

For all they know, he could be working on an escape plan, or something of the like, for as soon as they get to Cybertron.

After all, he _is_ the one with the darkest situation awaiting him.

So, no, Rattrap doesn't think it weird, even if it's really uncomfortable to deal with the Seeker in his perpetual bad mood.

The cable being put on his servo brings him back to the present, so the Maximal shrugs those thoughts away and focuses on his task.

"I wouldn't do that."

The two of them jerk around at the voice, startled not to see Starscream approaching him, but the void of emotion in his optics and faceplate.

"What? Did something happen?" Rumble asks, worried, and the Flier answers with an empty smile that gives the Rodent the chills.

"I have a way to go back."

For a moment, there's nothing as they process those words.

And then, the Weasel falls on his butt, so much hope on his faceplate that it's almost painful.

"You… You can…"

The empty smile softens, warmth seeping into it, and the next thing to escape the Cassette's mouth is a sob that has the Flier kneeling next to him in an instant, embracing him carefully but firmly.

"We'll go back… We'll go back…"

"Of course we will, you furry pest. I promised, didn't I?"

"You're the best, Creator, you're the best…"

When he finally notices he's smiling, Rattrap is quick to turn away to try and hide it.

He is _not_ a mushy mech, he's _not_.

Which means he focuses on the thing right in front of him now.

The open panel.

"Wait. We have a way to go back too. They're coming for us, remember?"

"They will come. There's no way to know if they _will_ take you back." Starscream answers, and Rumble tenses in his hold at the darkness in the Flier's voice.

"_What_?" Rattrap manages to get out, though it sounds so strangled it's barely more than a crackle of static.

"You know about the Council's machinations, their wanderings into the creation of immortal soldiers. And you think the Predacons would take any Maximals back, especially those with the knowledge of their rising urge to make a grab at power?" The Falcon explains, and, this time, it's Rattrap the one to sit down to digest his shock.

"You're wrong. You _can't be right_."

"For your sake, I hope so. But I do not leave the safety of my allies, of my family, in the servos of something as fickle as luck and good wishing."

After a moment, there's a servo resting on the Rodent's knee joint, and, uncaring about when he lowered his helm, he slowly looks up to see Rumble's confident smirk.

"Come on, Cheese Lover, cheer up! Screamer said he has a way to get us back, so we _will_ get back, even if whoever is sent for us doesn't really take us. So, up and about! The sooner we help him build his contraption, the sooner we go back home!"

A chuckle escapes his voice box before he can stop himself, but, after a moment, Rattrap decides _what the Inferno_, and starts laughing earnestly, standing up as soon as he's able to.

"Alright, alright! You better get us to _our_ Cybertron though, you hear me? If I end a minute further from the time we went away, I'm going to pluck out every single one of your feathers, Screecher!"

"Screecher?!" The Seeker shrieks, fuming and snarling, but his dangerous expression turns to simple annoyance when the Weasel starts rolling on the floor in laughter.

"Primus, of course! He doesn't want to-to be called Screamer, so we c-call him something else! Why didn't I thi-think of _that_?!" The Cassette chortles, clutching his lower torso as his mirth racks his frame.

"'Cause I got a thing you don't, Furry Bug. It's called a processor." The Maximal answers, earning an annoyed yelp from the smaller mech and a snort from the Flier. "Now, what do you need us to do?"

Back to the serious topic, any previous emotions are wiped off the Predacons' faceplates eve before the Rat can reboot his optics.

Creepy.

But, well… He's kind of used to it by now, anyway.

"I'm going to need more material than what we have available, but it should all be easily obtainable from Megatron's jamming towers and the planet's natural reserves."

"Right, just one problem with that." Rattrap interrupts, scratching the back of his helm, and the grimace on the Falcon's faceplate tells him they're both aware of what he's going to say next. "I doubt the Boss Monkey will let you waltz out of the ship to pick up the materials when the Preds are practically at our doors. And, by the way, since _when_ do you know any engineering?"

And Starscream looks away, a faraway look in his optics and his servos clenching in tight fists.

"You don't spend as much time around scientists as I did without picking things up."

That makes no—

Oh. _Oh_.

"I thought you didn't remember about…"

The humorless smirk appearing on the Predacon's face silences Rattrap and makes Rumble take a step closer to the Maximal.

"That I don't _want_ to remember doesn't mean I _can't_."

Well, slag.

And, talking about Starscream's origins…

"Are you going to come back with us? You know, as soon as the Maximals know who you are—"

"Are you going to _betray us_?" Rumble asks, moving away from the larger mech with horror and so much hurt on his expression that the Rodent feels a stab of pain in his spark.

"No! Never! But… I can't speak for the others. I mean, Optimus won't say a thing, and neither will Rhinox, you've proven yourself, after all, but… Spots' a kid, he babbles a lot, and I know he won't do a thing of his own volition but… You know how he gets when telling tales of old battles… And Bolt was _terrified_ of you. Sure, it looks like he calmed down, especially after the thing with the scarecrow—" And Starscream tenses, his optics brightening in realization. "Yeah, you can't really know what he'll do, not unless you can—"

"Get into his processor." The Seeker finishes, and the tone he speaks with is more than enough to make all of Rattrap's alarms blare so loudly he almost misses the Weasel's dumbfounded cry.

"What in the name of my great aunt Arcee are you planning?" He asks carefully, stepping back at the considering look on the Flier's faceplate, but especially at the tentative clawed servo rising to rest on reddish feather-covered chest plates.

"Nothing. You just gave me something to think about."

"And I'm a Pred." The Rodent deadpans, and that manages to make the smaller two focus back on the present.

"Always thought you weren't all that Maximal." Starscream answers with a tiny smirk, easily sidestepping the punch the silver and brown mech throws at him. "No, back to business now. I'm not planning anything that could harm you." He adds, serious once more, and, somewhat reluctantly, the Rat huffs and calms down. "If it works, that is."

The Maximal tenses once more, mouth opening to tell the once more smirking Predacon and his almost breathless laughing companion just _what_ he thinks of their jokes—

When he realizes that this is the first time since Rhinox told them the news of their chance to go back that the Predacons have sincerely smiled, not to say laughed as carelessly as Rumble is doing now.

The glint in the Flier's optics as his smirk turns to a grateful smile lets him know he's realized what the Rodent is thinking, so the Maximal just huffs and turns away.

And, with his back to the other two, allows himself to smile.

It's good to have things back to some semblance of normality. And, hey, if all goes well, maybe they won't have to change when they get back. Maybe no one will tell about who the Predacons really are, and maybe Dinobot won't be as severely punished as they all fear.

And maybe he's being way too optimistic, but they _need_ to be, more than any other time before.

Besides, it wasn't like their odds of surviving the Beast Wars when they first crashed were any better, but they managed.

Minus Tigatron and Airrazor…

But, if they're going with maybes, maybe they were just taken, so that means they will be able to get them back once they're on Cybertron and have the Council's resources available to them.

Maybe.

For once in his function, Rattrap is willing to bet on that.

Meaning…

"You know, if you really can get us to Cybertron, I know this little place we could go celebrate." He starts, casually slinging an arm over the suspicious Flier's shoulders, though careful about the sensitive feathers adorning them. "You can get dirty mech fluid with just a touch of radium. I'll take your head right off!" He puts the tip of his dactyls to his lips in a little kissing gesture to emphasize just _how_ good it is, and the Seeker looks more than a little interested. "And not only that…"

"There's more?" Rumble cuts, optics wide and hopeful and eager, and Rattrap's processor freezes.

_Newspark detected. Initialize subtlety._

So, the Maximal leans even closer to the Predacon under his arm, lowering his voice to a whisper, and recovers his smirk.

"Not only that, but the serving bots are walking around minus their torso plates, you know what I mean?"

The Weasel's optics widen in realization before breaking down in loud cackles once more, and Rattrap curses in his processor.

_Slag, just what do _Preds_ teach their _newsparks_ for one to understand _that_ kind of innuendo?_

And then, the Maximal blinks and finds himself crashing against a wall with a pained yelp, an irate shriek piercing his audials.

"Sheesh, Screamer, easy!" He whines, awkwardly sitting up and rubbing his aching helm with a grimace. "How was I supposed to know the brat would get—"

The words die when the blade is buried to the hilt where his helm had been barely half a second before, a white-streaked black frame with voids of light for optics growling at the terrified mech scurrying away.

_Slag slag slagslagslag__**slagslagSLAG!**_

The reinforced metal forming the walls is cut with barely a sizzle, the feather blade tightly clutched in the Flier's servos detaching with the ease of a hot knife from a chunk of butter, and Rattrap's back hits the wall.

_Never __**ever**__ again doing any kind of dirty comment in front of the newsparks—if I survive!_

"Starscream, what the Pit are you _doing_?!" Rumble shouts from where he's lying on the floor, shaking in terror. "What's so wrong about a stripper's club?!"

To the Maximal's increasing fear and growing hope, the Flier stops growling.

And Rattrap finally manages to online his voice box again.

"I'm sorry! How was I supposed to know he would get that reference?" He squeaks, his voice so high-pitched it almost hurts his own audials.

Slowly, the black coloring recedes, leaving a slightly shaking Seeker standing in the middle of the corridor with his null-blades in his tremulous servos, soft pants escaping his frame as his pale optics stare sightlessly at the ground.

"It… was supposed to be… innuendo?"

"_Yes_!" The Maximal almost shouts, relief turning his frame to a puddle of melted metal. "What in the name of my great aunt Arcee did you think I _meant_?!"

The null-blades clatter to the ground, and Rattrap's relief turns to tension once more as the Predacon clutches his own helm with terror and pain clear in his faceplate.

"I… I'm not _X_."

The Rodent's spark turns to a chunk of ice in its chamber, all his systems freezing with horror.

"You thought I was telling you that… that the kind of bar… that the club was… a _buffet_?"

The Seeker's whimper and the way he steps back are more than answer enough.

If Rattrap was organic, he would have emptied his stomach right there and then.

"By the Matrix, Starscream, I would never… You know I don't think of you like that, you know I'd never say anything _remotely_ close to _that_! I _know_ you're not Rampage, I _know_ you're not the Decepticon Starscream, _I __**know**_! So little do you trust me?" He lets out, his horror and pain clear in his voice and grimace, but, even though the Flier stops shaking and drops his servos, he doesn't look at the Maximal.

"I trust you, Rattrap. I don't trust myself."

Silence.

Unable to find a way to answer _that_, the Rodent decides to do what he does best.

Misdirection. Distraction.

"Well, then _you_ will be the one to show me some new bars. Hey, imagine that! Me in a Predacon bar!"

The Seeker snorts, and Rattrap counts it as one of his biggest victories yet, especially when Rumble stands up and joins them once more.

"I don't do bars, Garbage Muncher."

"'Course you do! How do you get overcharged then? At home watching soap operas?" Both Predacons laugh loudly at that, and, though he's happy to have elicited such a reaction, the Maximal feels like he's missing some kind of inner joke.

"Pit, no. I just don't get overcharged."

"Prude."

"I _do_ drink, Rattrap." Starscream answers, his tone very clearly stating just how big an idiot he thinks the Rodent is. "I just don't get overcharged."

"Well, then I'll have to teach you! It's just a matter to drink until you feel happy and warm and fuzzy, and _then_ drink more!" He returns cheerfully, standing up and once more slinging an arm over the Falcon's shoulders. "As easy as pie!"

"Your teaching talents are astonishing." The Cassette mocks, but Rattrap simply answers with as exaggerated a bow as he can sketch while not releasing his grip on the older Predacon.

"I _do not_ get overcharged. That means I _can't_ get overcharged. Literally."

_That_ makes the Maximal step away from the Flier in shock.

Though the tension in his frame, the way he crosses his arms against his chest plates almost protectively, are a hint of what he's not telling.

Most likely, neither the original Starscream nor Rampage can get overcharged either.

Seeing how he's already filled his quota of _Stupid Things to Say at the Wrong Times that Will Get Me Killed_, the Rodent stops for a nanoklik to think of something that will _probably_ let him keep his spark in his chest plates, thank you very much…

And smirks.

"No wonder you're so cranky all the time."

Rumble snorts, Starscream glares, and the world is right again.

Until, back at the bridge to try and subtly convince Optimus to let them go 'sabotage' the Predacons instead of allowing Megatron to take the fight to them, Silverbolt comes back to the ship.

"So, where've you been, Bird Dog?" He asks casually, but the Fuzor tenses slightly nevertheless.

"Uh, scout patrol."

Stuttering. Clue number two.

As for three…

"Oh, yeah, yeah, scouting the enemy, yeah… Find any new _positions_?"

And Silverbolt attacks him.

_Strike three, you're out!_

Fortunately, Optimus stops the Flier before he can do more than give the Rodent a couple dents, but the look Dinobot gives them both tells the spy that he's not the only one that knows their dear Bolt is _tangled_ in a _web_.

"What's going on here?" Primal questions, walking to the two mechs, and Rattrap immediately turns his frown to one of indignation.

"How should I know? This hotheaded hound just went postal on me!" He exclaims still from under the Flier's pede, and, after moment, Silverbolt relaxes and steps off of him.

"My… apologies. I… overreacted." He answers, bowing his helm and lifting a servo as if to hide himself in shame.

"Believe me, I know Rattrap can have that effect. But now is not the time. Back to your posts." Optimus orders calmly, voice low to sooth his crewmech's high-strung wires.

"Rattrap… or the truth." Starscream adds offhandedly from where he's standing next to the projector, and the Fuzor tenses once more, ears pulling back in a defensive reaction once the Falcon turns a knowing look to him. "The origins don't dictate who they become, Silverbolt. Yes, mechs can change… but it isn't always for the better. And if there ever was something like 'Maximal inner goodness', don't you think X would be here, helping you out?" With every new sentence, the white Flier tenses even more, starting to shake, and Rattrap almost gasps when he realizes _why_.

_"Yeah, you can't really know what he'll do, not unless you can—"_

_"Get into his processor."_

"Oh, you've got to be _kidding_ me…"

"_You_ are here." Silverbolt hisses, and the smirk Starscream answers with is the other side of Cybertron from sane.

"But you don't know _why_."

The whole crew shivers at that—immediately accompanied by the ship shaking at the impact of a shot against their shields, sending them to the floor or against the consoles.

"We're under attack!"

"No, _really_?!"

* * *

**AN:** I'm _baaaack_!

And I've got the _best job ever_. I mean, do you know of any other job that welcomes you with "All hail Megatron!"? ... I found it really funny the first day it happened, but since it _still_ happens, I can't help but feel like it really is the best job ever XD Imagine it, my day is like:

"All hail Megatron! We need three mixed salads!"

"As you command!"

(I work in a restaurant, in the kitchen XP)

My apologies for the first part, it... happened. But since it couldn't _not_ happen, the chapter was complete a lot sooner than I expected.

I hope you enjoy it, and I'll try to post the next one next week, but no promises.

**Giddy:** Thanks a lot for telling me about the filler-like chapter ^^ It really helped me a lot.

And about the other review... I'm glad to know Dinobot is still as amusing as ever XD And Starscream's new 'ability' does indeed have interesting possibilities... *evil smirk*


	22. Lost and Found

The last days have been quite chaotic, but, compared to the present, with the _Axalon_ shaking madly under the assault of the Predacons' weapons, Rumble feels like they've been a walk in the park.

Or maybe it's the other way around? After all, they're finally doing something other than worrying about the future and how to get back to their own instead of the Maximals'.

Besides, Starscream has found a way to go back.

Well, he said he knows of a way, they still have to make it a reality, which means they need to survive this attack with minimal damage, obtain the needed materials and build the slagging contraption.

Though he also said quite a bit of other interesting things.

It was obvious—for Rumble, that is—that Starscream was talking about his time as a scientist prior to the Great War when he said he'd been around scientists, though Rattrap didn't take it that way. Which works perfectly with their cover story, so no biggie.

Then, there was that thing with the sparks that not even the Cassette has an answer for, because he's never thought of Starscream—the one of before their landing in this crazy future-past era—as anything like Rampage, and, not even after meeting the experiment can the smaller Decepticon believe the Seeker could ever be anything like him.

The Constructicons are going to have their time cut out for them dealing with _that_.

And they are going to practically tie them to their berths to examine their frames, too, but that's something they'll deal with once they're back at the _Victory_. Mech, if Rattrap is annoyed by the state of the _Axalon_, he can't wait to show him the flooded areas and the rusting rooms they have to clean up and cover in anti-corrosive once per week, and—

Rumble winces, and it's not all because of him slamming to the floor at a new explosion.

Neither of their current allies will be coming back with them. They can't even _know_ who they really are.

Which is probably why the Rodent looked so conflicted when Starscream said he can't get overcharged, because, while the Cassette knows it's because he will never allow himself to be caught in such a state due to his status as Second in Command and his self-imposed Megatron-sitting duty, who knows what the Maximal thought?

They will never know, because there's no way they can tell the truth and correct all those fake stories their companions are building from their half truths and vague explanations.

They're lucky such have been enough to bring them so far.

With so many close calls, like the transformation issue, it's practically a miracle they haven't been found out yet.

Another explosion, more scared cries, auto-guns offline and mechs slamming everywhere, with Primal even crashing through the glass door of one lift—

A bond flares to activation, so known yet unknown that Rumble can only gasp and dig his short dactyls into the floor with horror and disbelief and fear in his faceplate, easily mirrored but far stronger reflected on the black and silver Cassette's tense frame and terrified faceplate.

Because that bond, that energy signature, is Ravage's.

The shooting stops, the _Axalon_ quieting as they all try to make sense of what is going on, and the Least Weasel rushes to his older brother's side with a silent whimper, each burying into each other as they curl in the darkness under a console, feeling but not returning the worried and confused gazes of their fellow Decepticons and one curious Predacon on their frames.

"What the heck just happened?" Rattrap asks, turning to see Primal straightening out of the broken lift door.

"We had… help."

Dinobot turns to the Maximals, tense and alert, and while Starscream is the same, he's examining everything else, one clawed servo on a tail feather hanging from his hip plating, carefully moving to where the Cassettes are.

Rumble reaches for him as soon as he's close enough, but a lifted servo stops him, telling him, along the Seeker's searching look, that they may have something worse than a Predacon attack to worry about, and thus can't let hugs hinder them.

No matter how much the smaller mechs are trembling and in need of one.

The bond is still there, strong and probing, despite both brothers having already closed it.

It still feels like Ravage.

"No way. I was scanning across the board. There was nothing, _nada_, out there!"

"Well, what would you call this?" Cheetor asks, and even though the Decepticons turn towards him, they're too small to see out of the window he and the Rodent are staring through.

However, Ramjet is close enough that he manages, and whatever it is he sees makes him gasp in surprise and disbelief.

The Cassettes whimper quietly and move further to the back.

"Lower the shields." Optimus orders, and all mechs whirl around in surprise.

"What? Oh, please, tell me that no-brain of yours is still under warranty. _That_ ain't no Maximal ship." Rattrap points out, gesturing to the window and what is outside, now identified as a vessel, as Dinobot approaches to see it for himself, mood growing even somber.

"Yet, it is not like any Predacon ship I have ever seen or known of."

"I—I have never seen something like that either." Ramjet adds, optics wide and pale, as he takes a step away, and that tells the other Decepticons more than it does their crewmates, but, right now, none of them care about this fissure.

An unidentified ship with at least one occupant, and said mech feels like _Ravage_.

The Fliers don't know the last part, true, but Rumble is sure his and his brother's shaking and whimpering and fearful huddling in the darkness under a console is more than enough clue that something is _really_ wrong with it.

"Lower the shields." Primal repeats, stepping away from the broken lift and towards his mechs, standing tall and imposing in his Transmetal frame.

Finally, Rhinox obeys.

And then, nothing.

"Strange. One would think a greeting would be the next step." Silverbolt mutters, the Rhinoceros trying all hailing frequencies, none of them noticing the growing uneasiness and nervous fidgeting of the Cassettes as the one behind the bond seems to move closer, or how the Predacon and the other two Decepticons draw their swords and tense expectantly when they _do_ realize the state the smaller mechs are in—and the ceiling hatch opens without an order.

That's when the others stop talking and take out their weapons.

A laser pointer lands on Dinobot's chest plates from the ceiling hatch and starts roaming over his frame before moving on to the next mech, while another slithers over the floor.

"What is it, Big Bot?" Cheetor asks softly, and Rumble winces soundlessly and tries to crawl even further away with his brother despite already being against the wall when one of the red dots crawls closer, even if all it does is move over Starscream's plating.

"Not what, who." Primal answers, and the Cassettes _finally_ turn fully to him then, as do at least half of the crew, the others too busy staring at the clear sky seen through the open hatch. "After the Great War, a few Decepticons were granted amnesty."

Ramjet and Starscream turn to the Gorilla so fast that their helms make a whooshing sound.

"A few _what_?" The Conehead whispers, dread filling his voice, as the laser pointers move over the Maximals.

"Most have retired, but rumor has it that one was reprogrammed and rebuilt. As a _Predacon_."

And Rumble remembers as if from far away, almost as if it was a lifetime ago, how all future mechs had reacted to Starscream's designation, but one of those had also looked startled at another of the Decepticons'…

The Rusty-Spotted Cat shudders so violently that their plating collides with soft tingling.

A few precise shots, and all weapons fly off the servos of their wielders.

And then, before they can recover from the surprise and reach for something else to defend themselves with, their invisible attacker jumps down, shimmering back in sight before he touches the ground, all polished silver and black predatory grace and serious faceplate.

And amber optics are staring straight into Rumble's visor.

"_Ravage_."

Starscream moves to a more balanced stance, _coincidentally_ blocking the large version of his brother out of the Cassette's sight, and the Least Weasel hears a soft hiss.

"_You_."

_That_ is not Ravage's voice.

Yet again, Primal did say the Decepticon was rebuilt, so maybe that's one of the changes. Or it may be simply because of the larger frame.

The _really_ larger frame.

"You know, if you were actually planning to help, coming in here through the back door with guns blazing wasn't the best idea." The Seeker answers nonchalantly, but his tense frame is fooling no one.

"I was only ensuring there would be no regrettable… _accidents_ to my person." The feline-like so-called Decepticon explains darkly, rumbling deep voice resembling growling, and Rumble feels his brother's shaking increase. "Now, step away from _them_."

All movement and sound from the Cassettes dies at those words, the flare of _something_ through the blocked bond being strong enough to be felt, but not deciphered.

"Yeah? Well, I'm sorry, but we don't really listen to guys that don't use the front door." Rattrap almost _snarls_, and the Least Weasel feels a flash of hope at the reminder that they're not alone, that there are others there to protect them from… _themselves_?

"Rattrap, Starscream. Please." Optimus cuts them, a raised servo stopping anything else—

"I'm not the one you knew." The Seeker quickly adds, voice still calm, but the growl from the larger no-longer-Cassette is clearly audible.

"_Please_?!" The rodent almost squeaks, and Rumble can see him literally snarling and bristling, servos clenched into tight fists that he's almost sure will be his next weapon of choice. "Oh, for booting up cold! The only thing worse than a stinking Pred is a stinking _Decepticon_."

Before they can stop themselves, both Cassettes wince out loud, attracting all optics to the console and the still immobile Flier blocking them.

"Ravage? Rumble?" Cheetor calls softly, clearly worried, and the startled gasp can only come from one mech.

"What did you call them?" Not-Ravage asks, voice weak and slightly tremulous, and Starscream tenses. "_What_ did you call them?!" He repeats louder, stronger, almost a roar, and there's a squeak from the younger mech.

And the Least Weasel finds himself snarling and stomping out from under the console, his older brother's wide optics fixed on his back plates, while the Maximals, Predacon and Decepticons turn to him in surprise.

The large black and silver mech looks about ready to crash.

"He called me Rumble, 'cause that's my name. And he called my brother Ravage because that is _his_ name. So who the Pit do you think you are to come here to flaunt that designation and shoot at us and boss us around?!" He shouts, but the most important things are those he keeps quiet.

_How dare you come here to break our hopes for a better future even more? How dare you come here and endanger all our work to get back home when we're finally _so close_?_

However, Ravage—the _real_ Ravage—hears them as clearly as if they'd been spoken out loud, because he steps silently from out of the darkness, as uneasy and fearful as before but not showing anything other than calm confidence.

Because they're not alone. And because, as Starscream will never allow himself to turn into his future namesake, neither will the Cassettes.

"What—You—"

"I'm Ravage." The smaller silver and black answers, and the larger not-Decepticon can only analyze them in silence for a while, too stunned or shocked to say anything.

"You're a Bestial."

The Maximals tense, and it takes Rumble half a nanoklik to realize they know about Dinobot, but no one ever told them about his brother.

However, the Rusty-Spotted Cat stays calm, standing tall and strong, and takes the last step to be by the Least Weasel's side, Starscream's presence hovering protectively next to them despite the Flier not having moved.

"I got it from Creator."

It's not a lie, coding may be passed from a mech's own creators to their creations, or even from previous mates to the new Cybertronian, because sparks are literally coding storages, so, while their Creator wasn't a Bestial himself, he had kept such coding from a previous encounter with one, back before the war, back when the world wasn't right, but it was better.

And so, four out of six of Soundwave's Cassettes turned out as Bestials.

But this Ravage doesn't know that.

Alright, no, he does, he's _Ravage_, but he isn't aware his brother is _also_ Ravage.

"Maximal or Predacon?" He asks weakly, something weird in his voice, too much like hope, and the Least Weasel tenses.

Their crewmates believe they had one creator of each faction, but answering this question would be an outright lie, and those are the best way to get caught—

"The only allegiance he claimed was to our family."

And his older brother solves it without actually answering, because every mech will think what they please.

Besides, it's the truth. There weren't Autobots or Decepticons as factions back then, least of all Maximals and Predacons.

But they don't know that.

"Black and red, or black and yellow?"

And his older brother tenses, optics bright, but Rumble can just frown.

_What is he talking about?_

"Black and red." The Rusty-Spotted Cat answers once more, though this time his voice is soft and his ears are pressed tightly against his helm, and Rumble curls into himself too.

Color schemes. They're talking about color schemes.

And yes, their actual Creator's color scheme wasn't black and red, but his detailing was, which makes this answer not a lie either, since the larger Decepticon never specified just what he was asking.

However, why would he ask about—

"Laserbeak. You're Laserbeak's creations."

Silence.

"_What_?! How…"

"Because I was Laserbeak's older brother."

Alright, that wasn't what Rumble was going to ask, it was something more along the lines of _how the Pit did you arrive to such a conclusion_, but since this adjusts better to their cover story, he won't be correcting the Decepticon-turned-Predacon anytime soon, or never.

Even if it means his future older brother's self thinks they are their younger brother's creations.

_Talk about messed up._

"_Was_?" Ravage—the _real_ Ravage—whispers, and Rumble's _I don't know how to feel_ conundrum is solved.

The only thing he can feel as that single word, along the sentence it was spoken in, is processed is horror and disbelief and hopelessness.

"Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were deactivated by a Maximal ship as they were sent to retrieve a Predacon traitor."

"Hey! They attacked us first!" Cheetor shouts indignantly, and the Cassette's whole world crumbles.

_"They… They're Fliers…"_

_"They are."_

_"Is that a problem?"_

_"… Nah. No problem at all. You're still our baby brothers, Beaky and Buzz."_

_"Beaky?!"_

_"I don't mind being called Buzz, but—"_

_"_And_, as your older brothers, you will have to do anything we tell you!"_

_"As if! I'm not taking orders from a mech that is more of a newspark than I am."_

_"Aw, Beaky, don't say that. We only want the best for you two, right, Rumble?"_

_"Slagging right, Frenzy. You two are family, and we take care of our family. Plus, you are our baby brothers, and that, my dear younger siblings, means that we will give our sparks up before we let anything bad happen to you."_

_"Exactly! And, hey, you can learn a lot with pranking, so it's in your best interests to help us with that!"_

His little brothers… Laserbeak and Buzzsaw… Deactivated by…

_"_Please_?! Oh, for booting up cold! The only thing worse than a stinking Pred is a stinking _Decepticon_."_

Rattrap looks even more horrified than the rest of Maximals—and Predacon—at the revelation, but that doesn't mean Rumble notices it.

A sharp click attracts their attention, and when his targeting systems lock onto the silver Transmetal's red optics, the Least Weasel jumps with a scream that would put Frenzy's scramblers to shame.

He never gets on his target, as something grabs onto him and pulls him away from the startled Rat, but he keeps screaming, all his rage, his helplessness, his ire, his _grief_, fueling his thrashing and his efforts to get free, large claws slashing metal and drawing Energon, though he's not sure if it's his captor's or the Cassette's own.

He doesn't care.

"I _trusted_ you!"

_"Got it! Where to now?"_

_"Eh, I'd say here, but give me a sec, Short Stuff."_

_"Need to reboot that old thing you call a processor, Garbage Muncher?"_

_"You've got no right to call me that when you eat as much as I do, you furry snake. Even worse!"_

_"Nuh huh, I don't eat things that two days before were known as 'food going bad'."_

_"It wasn't _fully_ bad. Besides, it was just once!"_

_"That's not what Dinobot says."_

_"Dino-butt says a lot of things you shouldn't listen to. Now give me that, I need to connect these two and then we're done here."_

"I **_trusted_** you!"

_The Cassettes chuckle at that, and, for the first time in the last two days and a half, Rumble truly feels all tension leave his frame, feeling far lighter than he can remember ever feeling._

_Rattrap gives them a deadpanned glare and, in unison, both Decepticons answer with large cheeky grins._

_The Maximal starts laughing before he can check himself, though he quickly masks it with a couple of coughs, looking away from the cackling brothers._

"I **_TRUSTED_** you!"

_Red optics against a white faceplate, a pained grimace turning to a warm and sincere and reassuring smile, strong large servos caressing his helm and resting against his cheek._

_"Go to Carrier now. Everything will be alright."_

_A quick hug, feeling warm strong metal surrounding him as a powerful spark thrums beneath it and echoing all the way to his own through a bright and loving bond, before grabbing his younger twin's servo and rushing to bury into his Carrier's chest, their older brother joining them a moment later—_

_Ripped metal and a broken bond._

His next scream is wordless and devoid of ire and anger, full instead of the same horror and denial and _agony_ of the broken bond, and, claws once more hidden behind the guise of simple servos, he turns around in his holder's grip to bury into warm metal with his older brother quickly hugging him tightly enough that he would be dented if this wasn't his older brother.

His _only_ brother.

Because the bonds are still there, Starscream and Ramjet are still here, the way to their time is finally in their reach—

_"Are you going to come back with us? You know, as soon as the Maximals know who you are—"_

_"Are you going to _betray_ us?"_

_"No! Never!"_

_…_

_"Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were deactivated by a Maximal ship as they were sent to retrieve a Predacon traitor."_

_…_

_"_Please_?! Oh, for booting up cold! The only thing worse than a stinking Pred is a stinking _Decepticon_."_

—but Rumble has lost his family all over again.

* * *

**AN:** And I'm back again for this fic too! ... For a chapter. The next ones are fighting me tooth and nail, so I can make even less promises than usual about when I'll manage to wrestle the season 2 finale (_The Agenda_) in shape to be able to post it.

About this chapter... I swear I had a completely different idea about _Beast Wars_!Ravage when I first got the idea for this fic, but it somehow turned into yet _another_ confusion. I fear for _Beast Wars_!Ravage now...

**Guest:** I'm really glad to read you like this ^^ As for my work, it was seasonal, and I no longer work there, so... *shrug*

**Giddy:** Poor Rattrap, indeed! If it had been Ratbat, it could have _maybe_ worked, but Rumble? Nuh-huh. As for Starscream... Well, he has reason to be wound up, after all, they are going to be home soon, if they can get to build the machine, so he now needs to worry about what will happen when they get back to their Megatron and the Decepticons, and if his spark is actually... well, all that mess. At least, that's what I _think_ he thinks. Sometimes, I don't know anymore what is going on... *sniff*


	23. Status Quo

It takes an eternity for the horror of the revelation to subside and allow him to once more recover control over his tense frame, but even then, Dinobot doesn't move.

He can only stare at where the two Cassettes are buried in a kneeling Starscream's chest plates, thin rivulets of Energon slithering through the slashes the younger mech's claws opened in the Seeker's servos and forearms, as well as a couple on his own legs.

And despite having seen them broken—the first patrol and the operation to infiltrate the Darksyde, two of their new crewmates in a state of shock after whatever event they had remembered—and afraid—big warm amber eyes staring up at him, pleading for a decision, a solution, to the implications of the Golden Disks now hold in his servos—and worried beyond care of the world—the brother's curl in Startscream's chest, whimpering about their carrier and the fate of the Ark should Megatron's plans come to happen—he has never before seen them completely undone.

He wishes he never had.

The sobs and cries wracking his frame make his tremble softly, their pain tugging at his spark hard enough that it is as if a part of it had been ripped out, but not like the time the Predacons tricked them into believing their infighting had destroyed them all, because then it was just emptiness, and now it is agony.

Not like the brothers', nothing like the Cassettes', but agony nevertheless.

Because he wasn't the one to pull the trigger, he didn't even know the Axalon had encountered resistance before catching up with the Darksyde, but, in a way, he is guilty of deactivating the younger ones' creator all the same.

He's guilty of many things, many catastrophes gone and yet to come, all brought about by that utterly stupid decision to let himself be swayed by an overambitious power-hungry Predacon, and further exacerbated by his unbothered acceptance of his mad plans once he was made privy of them.

And though he can now do his best to try and make amends, there is nothing to be done about the extinguished spark that, due to his anger-fueled idiotic choice, left two young and innocent—and there are no innocents in war, but to be dragged into one by the sins of their fathers is more than enough to let them categorize as such—children behind, all alone despite having found respite and safety and a family in their mismatched crew of Maximals and Predacons.

Only, now they know their fates were far more entwined even before they emerged from their pods, lost and memory-less, in the middle of a war waged on a yet unidentified past Earth.

Dinobot doesn't need to look around to know the others have also arrived at the same conclusion, or one similar enough.

The pain and sorrow filling the bridge is more than enough.

Rattrap twitches, the movement barely distinguishable with how hard his frame is trembling, and the Predacon immediately moves, clasping a strong servo on a shoulder plate to ensure he doesn't continue with his original intentions.

The Maximal gives him a pleading and thoroughly spark-broken look, but the Bestial stays firm.

There's nothing any one of them can do to help now.

And, after the Rodent's words…

"Please?! Oh, for booting up cold! The only thing worse than a stinking Pred is a stinking Decepticon."

Starscream's optics are the same red as usual, nothing to indicate any battle systems are active in either his gaze or frame, but, as they meet Dinobot's, the larger Predacon knows staying away is the best choice.

Seekers are protective of their brood, more than any other frame type due to the inherent dangers of an inexperienced mech trying to fly, though it isn't protectiveness in the smaller's gaze.

There's literally nothing there.

Like Transmutate.

"You said it was like you."

"Yes, it is. It's just that I have more than just what it has… It's just a bunch of Energon-lust wrapped up in a really thin and fragile cocoon of obliviousness. It may seem naïve and… newspark-like, but it won't stay like that for long. There's too much power there, too much darkness, for it to stay inoffensive for too long."

And, right now, that's all Dinobot can see.

A cocoon, a thin and fragile barrier of what little self-restraint the mech has managed to scrunch together, keeping at bay the darkness.

"I'm not going to say there's a 'good' and a 'bad' part in every mech or any of that mushiness, but… if there was such a thing, that creature would be only darkness. All the Energon-lust, all the thirst of destruction, the yearning for screams, the… Well, all that is what X, the thing and I have in common."

…

"Starscream? What happened?"

"I—I couldn't stop—I didn't—I didn't want to deactivate them!"

"Slag."

"Deactivate whom?"

"Them. The ones that… that made me… I didn't want to deactivate them… I wanted to play some more."

…

"The origins don't dictate who they become, Silverbolt. Yes, mechs can change… but it isn't always for the better. And if there ever was something like 'Maximal inner goodness', don't you think X would be here, helping you out?"

"You are here."

"But you don't know why."

Dinobot really doesn't want that cocoon to break.

He's sure none of them will survive if that was to happen.

Unfortunately, the Decepticon in their midst either doesn't see it or doesn't understand it, because he moves—

And the Flier snaps.

To their surprise and hidden relief, though, it isn't Starscream the one that is now standing in front of the taken aback black and silver mech, hissing threateningly with a spark-extinguishing snarl and claws bared in the only warning he will ever give, but Ramjet.

Hot-headed, brash and never afraid to make his opinion known Ramjet.

Never before would have the Bestial thought he would be able to instill fear in his spark, but… Well, only a really stupid mech would look at the Conehead and stay unworried.

And Dinobot, despite all his shortcomings and mistakes, is not that mech.

Rattrap, judging by the way he jerks away and into the Raptor, isn't that mech either.

The larger Ravage moves away slowly, optics going from the snarling Flier to the sobbing Cassettes, but doesn't try anything else.

Ramjet stops hissing, but doesn't relax, his scowl daring any of them to test his patience again.

No one does.

And then, once the brothers calm down enough that they are no longer crying, though they remain curled in trembling shapes against their surrogate creator's chest, Starscream moves.

His empty gaze lands on the Decepticon as the feathers adorning his arms and shoulders turn black, and the Axalon's crew immediately moves away, except the Conehead standing guard in front of his fellow small-sized Predacons.

"Megatron would be disappointed."

The bridge goes silent with tension, to the point Dinobot can only hear the pulsing of his own spark in its chamber.

Megatron would be…

"Soundwave would be disappointed."

Wait, who?

But the larger Ravage tenses, optics pale in a mixture of realization and horror, and the Predacon tenses so much that his frame starts to ache.

Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, not the mech walking around at this very moment, ordering his former comrades around with his politician's voice.

And Soundwave… He knows that name, one of the first Megatron's lieutenants, just like the original Starscream—

Oh, no… He can't be…

"Your brothers would be disappointed."

Finally, the Decepticon snarls.

"You know nothing."

"But you do." The Seeker returns without losing a beat, as emotionless as before. "You have your orders, and yet here you are, dallying around and deviating from your mission. Megatron would have you cleaning the ventilation shafts for weeks." And something finally makes its way through that fragile barrier, though, fortunately for them all, it is only disgust twisting his dark faceplate and filling his hissed words. "And Soundwave? Oh, what would Soundwave say? He would be disappointed, I'm sure, so disappointed, that his eldest endangered his younger siblings with his carelessness…" Ravage tenses more and more, frame shaking as he crouches, as if trying to make himself smaller so that those carefully calm yet incredibly cutting words can't harm him anymore. "Your little brothers, do you remember them still? Or have those Predacons wiped all but Laserbeak and Buzzsaw from your processor? Do you remember the rambunctious Rumble and Frenzy, so unsuited for espionage yet able to sneak around the ship undetected by any as they planted their paint bombs?" All Maximals plus one Predacon tense at that, because did he say Rumble? "And what about young Ratbat? Do you remember his childishness, his eagerness, his curiosity? How your dear Laserbeak and Buzzsaw took him to Darkmount's large storage rooms to teach him flight? How he would always welcome you with an elated shriek and questions about your missions as if they were the tales of the heroes of old? How he—"

"Stop!" The Decepticon roars, curling into himself with a crippling agony that throws him to his knees and forces him to bow so that his helm is almost touching the floor, his servos covering his audials as if that would stop the words from coming. "Stop! You know n-nothing, nothing!" But they can all hear that not even himself believes that, and so, in the same manner the Predacons inherited from their ancestors, he weaves a shield of anger to hide all other emotions behind, lifting his helm to glare at the small Seeker with such hate that, if he had optic lasers, would have burnt a hole clean through the experiment's spark chamber. "You will stop this mockery this instant! You are not Soundwave, you could never be Soundwave! So quit rummaging through my processor as if you ever could be him!"

"I am not intending to be. But, since he can't be here to remind you of what matters, then I find myself forced to step up and take on his role, regardless of how ill-fitted it is for me."

And Ravage changes.

Not unlike his smaller namesake, the differences between variants aren't that drastic as one would think Dinobot's to be, consisting mainly of the different angle of hips and back legs to better quadruped movement, the claws suddenly tipping his dactyls, the guns resting on the outside of his thighs angling forward with a hum to indicate their functionality, his tail's outer shell slipping down so that the appendage becomes a whip of twice its original length, and the casing on its snout jerking back to reveal the metallic bone-like substructure and the full length of the fangs until then restricted by the lip and gum-like aesthetic plates, while the ruff of fur-like armor framing his helm shifts to his back to leave the slender head free of its weight and protect the neck and shoulders.

Less cat, like their Ravage, and more panther.

The Maximals jerk away, reaching for anything to use as weapons, while Ramjet steps back with a threatening hiss—

Starscream surges past the Conehead in a flash of red, white and black, slamming into the Decepticon's snout and, using the initial impulse, tipping his to his side, but Ravage roars and rolls back to his paws—

"I know they're gone!" The Seeker shrieks, crouching so that he's under the panther's belly as he pounces, from where he springs to impact against his rival's stomach hard enough to leave the Bestial breathless and disoriented for just a nanoklik.

But that is more than enough, as the small Predacon once more throws the larger mech to his side, this time crouching over his shoulders as he grabs his helm—

And twists it so that the Decepticon can see the Cassette brothers now clinging to a defensively-positioned Ramjet's ankles, staring at the two fighters with worry.

"But they are still here."

Ravage's struggling stops.

For a moment, no one moves, no one dares to so much as draw breath, waiting for whatever will happen next.

"What are you?" The Decepticon whispers, voice so soft that it can be barely heard, and Starscream steps off him with a humorless small smile.

"That is a really good question."

The Bestial's optics go black.

"I see."

And, in a blur of black and silver, the panther is back on his paws and the Seeker slams hard enough into one of the CR Chambers to leave a sizeable dent.

As soon as he falls to the ground, grimacing and stunned, the Decepticon readies himself—

"I won't take orders from a Maximal experiment!"

Dinobot crouches to grab his discarded sword and rolls under the table to be able to cross the room in time, but doesn't use it.

Instead, he activates his own Bestial transformation, and so, when Ravage's pounce sends him against the Predacon's back, the Decepticon ends up yowling in pain as one of the ribs-turned-spears slash a front leg open from paw to shoulder.

With a roar of his own, the brown beast throws the other off him and into a wall, before immediately standing on his back legs—

"Dinobot, enough!"

—and falling back on all fours with a muted thud, snout lowered and teeth bared with a soft warning rumble.

The panther stands up again, slowly, with a hiss, but his ears are pressed back and he keeps himself lowered, tail pressed against his back legs, as he curls against the wall.

"Now, now, Ravage. No need for the nastiness." Starscream admonishes calmly, like a parent to their newspark, and the Decepticon tenses with a snarl—

A growl from Dinobot immediately makes him rethink his situation, settling instead for spitting a hiss at the Seeker as he steps to be by the larger Bestial's shoulder.

"Who would have thought the old Ravage would be reduced to this. A tool of some overambitious fools calling themselves superior… You are better than them." The Decepticon snarls, but doesn't move. "Now, back to the topic at servo… You have your orders. Predacon orders, yes, but orders nevertheless. So. What would the real Ravage do?" And, from the corner of an optic, the Raptor can see the Flier gesture towards where Ramjet is now standing with the terrified Cassettes in his arms, and the Decepticon tenses.

For a moment, there's only silence.

And then, finally, with a soft whir of transformation, Ravage looks back at Starscream from his robot variant's optics.

"What are you?" He asks again, and Dinobot snaps his jaws threateningly, attracting his attention for but a mere instant.

"An ally. And that is all that matters about me." The Seeker answers, and, with a nod, the Decepticon finally relaxes and stands up, his uninjured servo cradling his damaged arm.

The Predacon stands on his back legs, still standing taller and threatening despite the weight of his upper body forcing him to slump forward a bit, and, when Ravage takes a step away, ears pulled back and head lowered as his optics turn to the ground, he finally returns to his robot variant, Bestial coding soothed by the submissive display.

Starscream returns to his fellow small-sized Predacons then, taking the Cassettes once more in his arms, but Dinobot doesn't look away from the Decepticon, ignoring the scared and wary Maximal optics fixed on him.

It takes him a couple of nanokliks for Ravage to look up again, though still keeping his helm and ears lowered, and the Raptor merely nods towards Optimus Primal.

Straightening, the Panther obeys, finally turning to their commanding officer.

"I am deeply apologetic about my… loss of control. I was not expecting the circumstances I encountered when I finally arrived." The Transmetal merely crosses his arms against his chest plates. "Allow me to start again. Covert Agent Ravage at your service." He salutes a bit awkwardly, thanks to his damaged arm, but, finally, the others start to react.

"Wait a cycle. What about the Maximals?" Rhinox asks accusingly, pointing at the Decepticon.

"I'm afraid the transwarp wave was very weak. Only the Predacon sensors detected it. You understand we would prefer to handle this situation discreetly." He answers calmly, and Dinobot isn't the only one to glare or snarl at the Panther, with Silverbolt going so far as to growl.

He suspects, of course he does, that not everything is as it has been explained, but the Decepticon's words sound truthful despite everything.

A look at Starscream confirms that perhaps their battle protocols are making them too tense, because the Seeker doesn't appear the least suspicious as he listens to the black and silver mech, the Cassettes feeling calm enough in his arms to look around the bridge warily, too hurt by the revelation of their creator's fate to trust them anymore.

It hurts, but, as the larger Ravage explains about his mission to capture Megatron, something that immediately turns to planning while Rhinox quickly fixes his arm, Dinobot knows there's nothing he can do now.

Obviously, Rattrap knows it too, as he moves to stand by his side, ignoring the planning and the Decepticon in their midst, and, for a moment, the Predacon is almost sure even he is being disregarded as the Maximal stares at the ground under his pedes with the most dejected look he has ever seen in his friend's faceplate.

"I did it." The Rodent whispers, and, still unsure whether the words are meant for himself or the larger mech, Dinobot merely tilts his helm, looking down at the Transmetal. "I… I was in charge of weapons, and they were going to destroy Airrazor's ship, and… I did it. I was the one that destroyed the Preds' ship."

Oh.

Oh.

Well, that…

Oh.

"Then why are you moping?" Both of them turn at the voice, only to find Starscream calmly meeting their optics, despite the way the Cassettes and Ramjet glare at them. "You just said it, you were defending yourself."

"But—"

"You knew nothing then, about your attackers or their relation to a member of the crew. The only thing you knew, the only thing that mattered, was that they were attacking you, and you had to defend yourselves unless you wanted to end as nothing more than space debris. You, and the whole of the Axalon crew."

"What?!" Ravage hisses threateningly, turning his glare to the Seeker.

"What are you doing?!" Rumble shouts, attracting everyone else's attention, as he practically snarls into his handler's faceplate. "You're defending them?!"

"Wouldn't you?"

"No! They deactivated—They…"

"Rumble, you know the circumstances of how I became what I am today." And both Cassettes tense, not looking at their surrogate creator. "You were quite firm about defending me, despite knowing about the sparks I took."

"That was different…"

"Was it? What if I had been the cause of Laserbeak and Buzzsaw's deactivation?" The brothers gasp and turn to the serious Flier with horror in their faceplates, but Starscream stays unfazed. "Would you blame me if, in an effort to survive, I extinguished your family, long before meeting any of you and becoming aware of what I'd done?"

"But…"

"Would you?"

The Cassettes exchange a look, before Ravage hugs his brother tightly and burrows in the Seeker's chest with a shake of his helm.

"But you would have never done that. Ever." Rumble whimpers, voice barely heard with his faceplate buried in the Bestial's neck cabling.

"And none of the Maximals would have extinguished Laserbeak if they had known, either. But they didn't know. And they had no choice in the matter."

"You can't be saying we have to trust the Maximals again." Ravage hisses, optics closed tightly and frame shaking slightly, and Starscream reaches to rub his back.

"Of course not. I'm just reminding you to look at the whole picture, rather than a small part of it." The Seeker answers with a tiny smile, and both Cassettes nod without breaking the embrace. "Now, we have a task to complete. Are you up for it?"

Slowly, after a couple of deep breaths, the brothers uncurl and nod, subsequently being left back on the ground to stand as strong and unmovable as seasoned warriors.

"If that faux Megatron hadn't stolen the Golden Disk, Buzz—they wouldn't have been sent to pursue and wouldn't have deactivated." Ravage hisses, servos clenching in tight fists, and Dinobot winces, attracting his burning yellow optics. "This is all Megatron's fault."

"We would be long gone if it wasn't for that Pred." Rumble spits, snarling at the floor. "We would be home, and none of this would have happened. Everyone would be active, and—he'll pay. With extreme prejudice."

"You know, for once I'm inclined to agree with your reasoning of blaming Megatron." Ramjet grumbles, giving Starscream a reluctant nod, that the Falcon answers with a dangerous smirk.

"About time you came around."

"So, are we all settled then?" Primal asks, catching everyone's attention. "Can I be reassured there will be no 'accidental' shooting of an ally in this mission?"

And, as Dinobot looks around, like the rest of them are doing, meeting his fellow Predacon's gazes and his Maximal comrades' and even the Decepticon Ravage's, he realizes that no, not all things are settled, because the trust, the camaraderie that they shared, is lost.

But the remnants of it still remain, the lot of experiences and dangers and peaceful times shared are bridging the newly formed gap between them, all because of the old, older than any of them, mech in black and silver that rescued them only to drive them apart.

And, as long as those still exist, the hope for the strained relationships to be mended will be there.

Besides, no matter how much he wants to rip the Decepticon to shreds with his own fangs and claws, Starscream was right.

He is the Cassettes' uncle, and, regardless of how much the brothers seem to be pushing him away, he could never harm him knowing they're family.

So no, there will be no shooting of anyone's back.

It won't be needed.

They all know their places now.

With nods and affirmatives from everyone, and with the Decepticon's arm patched up, they activate the automatic defenses and leave for the Predacon stealth ship.

Time to put an end to the Beast Wars.

* * *

**AN:** And here's yet another part of _The Agenda - Part 1_. Mech, what a stubborn chapter this one is turning out to be...

No 'Valentine Day' special chapter, for those of you following the tradition, sorry XP Maybe I can put a drabble together or something... Though, seeing how even _drabbles_ are fighting me, no promises :P

**Blaze Raptor:** You knew it, alright, 'cause there was still more trouble to come. I hope you like this chapter as much as the last one ^^

**Giddy:** What can I say? I'm full of surprises XD Once more, your advice was more than useful, so thanks a lot! And I agree, I really want to see the reunion... *rubs hands with Cheshire Cat grin* I have _ideas_...


	24. Game of Deception

The battle is over.

The War is won.

No matter that the Predacons are scattered, chased out of their base by their attack, or that they have no means to track them all down.

With Megatron captured, the Maximals are the victors.

Even if the Predacon Ravage is the one to hold the Tyrannosaurus in the stealth ship's brig.

And that would be the reason why Starscream is walking the dark corridors next to the large Bestial right now, en route to a 'chat' with their 'guest'.

Optimus would have been here, but he's busy with a certain Fuzor and taking care of an escaped Spider.

If only either of the Seekers had noticed her before she took off in her modified flying craft…

But they didn't, they were busy with the automatic defenses and the Predacons and getting into the ship, so there was nothing they could do.

So, with Rhinox tasked with an overhaul of the sensors, with Ramjet and the Cassettes as his helpers, no matter how unwilling, and Rattrap and Dinobot repairing their defenses, Starscream is the one tasked with keeping an eye on both the former Decepticon and their prisoner.

Optimus made it more than clear.

_"You wanted to see me?"_

_"I talked with Ravage—the Decepticon Ravage. He said he's going to try and get some information from Megatron about the scattered Predacons and find us some Energon deposits to replenish his ship's energy."_

_"… So?"_

_"I want you to be there."_

_"Me?"_

_"Yes. You can keep both Ravage and Megatron under control. And… You're the only one I can trust."_

_"Only because the other Maximals—excluding Cheetor—are busy, _as I was_ before you called me here."_

_"No, Starscream. Because you are the only one I can trust to stay focused on the matter at hand, and to see and hear everything. Not that I didn't trust you in the first place."_

_"… Hmpf. Whatever. Anything else?"_

_"Be careful."_

_"Spare me your sappiness."_

And the Gorilla had laughed then, his small smile, as trusting and proud as his reassurances, filling with mirth.

Short-lived, of course, as he was going to deal with Silverbolt not long after Starscream left, but… It was good.

For both of them.

To have his leader's unconditional trust once more, even if this isn't his _true_ leader—

It feels good.

So, the Seeker immediately crushes the feeling and focuses back on the present.

There's a very real chance they will all go back to Cybertron now, and he still needs to build the slagging teleport ray designed with the Vok's data to send the Decepticons to their time.

He can't let his… _fondness_ for these Maximals and one Predacon delay him any further.

This is not their time, not their _home_.

These mechs _don't exist yet_.

And, if they manage to implement the needed changes to avoid the Autobots winning the Great War, they may never do.

He vanquishes the pain and despair almost before it appears, once more focusing on the here and now.

They're already entering the brig, after all.

He knows the feathers on his arms and shoulders turn black as soon as he sends more energy to them, to his now disassembled wings, to enhance the sensitivity of the sensor network to the point he can feel even the most minor of fluctuations in the surrounding mechs' electromagnetic fields, tiny 'hiccups' in the otherwise immutable pool of their emotions that reflect the briefest instant of surprise or fear or disbelief signaling a lie being spotted, an invisible reaction to certain words.

A betrayal of their thoughts.

It's not processor reading, and he's more than sure that this certain ability is _not_ in his grasp, but, combined with his knowledge of his 'companions' and their past, in Predacon Ravage's case, it is good enough to fake it.

Even if it gets him compared to _Soundwave_.

He's not sure if he feels proud, that his act is working well enough to mimic true processor-reading, or insulted, if only on principle.

After all, there are no two mechs more different than Starscream and Soundwave.

One of the reasons their Megatron keeps them close, even if some days they're almost literally at each other's neck cables.

Oh, well. Their mighty leader _is_ a bit crazy himself, after all.

"So. The Tri-Predacus Council still smooches the skid plates of the Maximal Elders. Is it any wonder I rebelled?"

Such a warm welcome… But, well, nothing new here.

Ravage's hesitation, though, as if sifting through various possible answers to that…

"Please, don't hold back in my account." He tells his 'companion' with a sharp grin, and the Predacon tenses while barely keeping a snarl at bay.

If he can convince the black and silver mech to speak his thoughts because he would know them either way, the better, since, after all, he _can't_ actually read his processor.

There's guardedness in Ravage's field when he finally turns to Megatron, though, and Starscream curses to himself.

He will have to guess, after all.

"The Predacons will have their moment. The Pax Cybertronia and the Maximal-Predacon Alliance will make sure of that."

Ah, but there's a dark sort of amusement and pity in his field, kept close and mostly hidden as it is, and the Seeker can almost hear the mocking retort from the panther, most likely something about—

"Just because you call yourself Megatron doesn't mean you are the _real_ deal. With all that entails." The Flier purrs, and Ravage's sudden tension and flash of fear mixed with self-hatred tell him he has nailed it, even if there's no outward sign of it.

That means that the 'moment' of the Predacons has a lot less to do with politics and peaceful negotiation and a deal more with warfare.

_Just. Great. Don't I have enough to do dealing with _one_ war already?_

But, no, this is no way to think. They will be long gone before the Maximal-Predacon conflict can escalate to more than movements in the shadows.

This is _not_ the Decepticons' battle.

And if it will involve their 'allies'… They can take care of themselves.

The Tyrannosaurus snarls slightly down at them, and his voice brings the Seeker back to the present.

"Perhaps." The anger vanishes almost before the word is out, though, leaving a calm _negotiator_ in its place, one that knows just _what_ to say. "But what does it matter if your ship is too Energon-depleted by battle to return to Cybertron?"

Good point.

And not Starscream's business.

Now that the _Darksyde_ is under their control, he will have more than enough materials to build the teleport ray.

Ships won't be necessary then.

"The Maximals—"

"Have _nothing_. They were expecting rescue. I, on the other hand, have a secret store of Energon cubes, _yes_. Release me, and it is yours."

Oldest. Trick. In the book.

Or, well, maybe not, but old enough.

Ravage's hint of amusement comes just a nanoklik before his dark smile, and it is then that he looks more like a cat playing with a mouse than Starscream has seen him in a long while.

Though not too long.

He _really_ is a future Ravage.

"I think I will take it anyway."

Oh, yes. He _is_ Ravage.

The Decepticon can only hope _their_ Ravage will never end like this one.

And, look at that, Megatron is actually _worried_.

This will be _fun_.

"It's—location is encrypted. And my minions have fled." The stumbling is barely noticeable in the larger mech's voice, but, since Starscream was looking for it, it's easy to hear it, something that makes his sharp smirk widen as the black and silver Predacon moves away.

To a screen with the Decepticon insignia in it.

In _red_.

Why the Pit would a Decepticon—or a Predacon, for that matter—use _that_ color for their insignia, especially when it is the unofficial color of both Autobots and Maximals, however, is a mystery for the Flier.

One that, if not for his control over his own frame, would have ended with Starscream shuddering visibly.

There's far more at work here than Ravage calling himself a Predacon now—though he still has a Decepticon insignia on his right shoulder, albeit red.

And he has the feeling it is nothing good, and far more related to the incoming war back at this future Cybertron than anyone is talking about.

With some luck, they'll be long gone by then.

"Remember the energy shutdown that triggered your capture?" The silver and black mech asks almost conversationally once he's next to the screen, and Megatron looks both suspicious and interested.

To be sincere, so is the Seeker.

Neither of them _did_ have anything to do with that event, after all.

"Yes. How did you…?" The Tyrannosaurus asks softly, reflecting Starscream's thoughts, and, looking as unbothered as before, with his sharp grin still on his faceplate, the Flier looks over a shoulder to see whatever is going to happen now.

"Permit me to introduce—" A click, the screen filling with static for but a moment, before clearing to reveal— "Lieutenant Tarantulas, of the Predacon Secret Police."

And while the spider cracks up and Megatron looks slightly horrified with the revelation, the Decepticon finds himself frowning to avoid showing his own surprise.

Well.

He hadn't expected that.

Ravage's optics meet his own, and something seems to harden in their depths, as he further shields his thoughts despite the distance between them being enough that Starscream can no longer gleam anything from his tightly held field.

Though he doesn't need to know that.

So, instead, the Flier smirks sharply again, and turns to their captive when he recovers from his surprise.

"A mole. Within my own organization all this time. And I never suspected."

Oh, dear, he sounds indignant. Poor little him.

Megatron glares down at Starscream, and the Seeker's grin grows more sincere in its sharpness and delight at his anger.

Deep inside, though, his spark stutters in its pulsing.

The Tri-Predacus Council was far more aware of this wannabe warlord and his ridiculous plans, or at least had an inkling as to them, if they thought to infiltrate someone soon enough that they would be trusted when the time for action came.

He almost dreads knowing _who_ is part of that Council, and what they _really_ have in mind for Cybertron.

Seeing how they are called _Predacons_…

Razorclaw, as far as he remembers, wasn't one for this kind of strategy, but he _is_ a hunter. Biding his time to strike wouldn't be so unthinkable.

_Not my problem. I just need to get the teleport ray built, and bring us back to our own time. And then, we'll change things enough that we won't have to deal with all this nonsense._

"Energon cash located, Covert Agent Ravage." Tarantulas reports, and the panther's look as he turns to the Tyrannosaurus is a micrometer short of a satisfied purr.

"I'll have the Maximals retrieve it right away."

"Yes. You do that." Megatron hisses, to all looks seething in rage, but Starscream can clearly feel his eagerness and dark glee.

As soon as they leave the brig, not another word exchanged, the Seeker spears the Predacon with a glare sharp enough to stop the former Decepticon short.

"It's a trap." He tells him simply, and Ravage grimaces.

"Of course it's a trap. However, Tarantulas only uncovered one set of coordinates."

One set. Either they _are_ the right ones, and some of the escaped Predacons are guarding them or have moved the cubes someplace else, or they are wrong and the real location is hidden in the encryption or wasn't even recorded.

"Send Ramjet to scout, he'll be able to determine the presence of the Energon and locate it if it was moved. _Then_, the Maximals can retrieve it." He orders with barely a thought, resuming their way to the command center, even if it takes the panther a moment more to follow, shaking off his surprise, as Starscream disperses the energy on his disassembled wings.

"Ramjet? Is that—"

"The Conehead's name, yes, just like _another_ Conehead, back during the Great War. We're all aware of that. Well, not the Maximals, but what can we do about lousy history lessons?" He answers with a mocking grin, though Ravage doesn't look any less disturbed than before.

However, he _does_ continue on their way, and, as soon as they're in the bridge, he sends Optimus the right instructions, completely oblivious to the Seeker's private comm with the Crested Eagle.

::Can't you get a bit more _specific_ about this trap business?::

::Not without giving up that I can't actually read processors. I trust you can deal with whatever that mockery of our _esteemed_ leader decided to regale you with.::

Ramjet is silent after that, and, for a moment, Starscream has to wonder whether Optimus has already caught up to him to inform him of the mission or if he's actually been left speechless.

::I… Alright. I won't disappoint.::

Aw, look at that. He _really_ was left speechless.

::I know you won't.::

"What are you smiling about?"

He almost startles at Ravage's sudden query, almost subconsciously closing the line with the Conehead before turning to the suspicious Predacon.

"Merely reminiscing." He finally answers with a smirk, but, unlike the previous times, the panther doesn't tense or look guarded about the reaction.

"Indeed." He hisses in what is supposed to be a calm voice, though whatever is addling him now immediately makes that single word twist into something menacing instead. "So. You _aren't_ the infamous Protoform X of the Maximals."

Ah, yes. _That_ again.

"I thought we cleared that after the _real_ X tried to blast you out of the sky."

"Before you blocked his cannon so that he blew _himself_ up instead, yes. However, I cannot say I am… _satisfied_ with the ensuing explanation."

Cheetor had been the one to do the honors, after Megatron had been captured and he heard the Predacon ribbing the Decepticon about whatever relationship he had with the Maximal experiment, but, even though he had dropped the issue then for the sake of transporting the Tyrannosaurus to his cell, it is most obvious he had not let it go completely.

"And what is there to be _satisfied_ about?" Starscream asks in return, leaning against a wall while the panther hovers in front of the pilot's seat, too strung up to sit down, too wary of the other bridge occupant.

"Your 'assumed' status as a prior unsuccessful experiment of the likes of Protoform X is too _convenient_."

The Seeker bristles, straightening again, and, most likely against his own desires, Ravage tenses.

"Of _course_, because, as far as cover stories go, one stating an event as _impossible_ as this one is _exactly_ perfect if I wanted to be _inconspicuous_!" He shrieks, before, with an enormous effort, reigning on his temper. "No one would have believed me to merely be another Maximal Seeker, would they?" He spits with something of a cross between a snarl and a smirk, and the Predacon's faceplate twitches as he tries to keep his composure.

"Because it is so unbelievable that it must be truth."

_"Screamer!"_

_"Don't call me that, Rumble!"_

_"Yeah, whatever."_

_"Hey, have you seen that movie? The one Skywarp is always babbling about, with the—"_

_"Yes, I know what you speak of, Frenzy. What about it?"_

_"Have you seen it?"_

_"Unfortunately, yes."_

_"Then, why?"_

_"Because I was forced to sit and—"_

_"No, no! Why did they believe the woman's story?"_

_"Story? What are you talking about, Buzzsaw?"_

_"When the group finds that woman after—"_

_"Ah, yes. _That_. Well, it's simple. Her story was too farfetched."_

_"Yes, we know that! It was the truth, yes, but it sounded so _impossible_ when she told them… Why did they believe her?"_

_"Laserbeak, if she had walked up to them and told them anything else, or even that she had just gotten there as they had and so knew nothing about the mess, would they have believed her?"_

_"Of course! That would have made more sense. But she didn't!"_

_"Exactly. And _that_ is why they believed her."_

_"I think I understand…"_

_"Really? Then tell us, Rav!"_

_"Her story was so unbelievable that it had to be truth."_

_"… That makes no sense!"_

_"It's quite easy, Frenzy. Why would she tell them a story that _no one_ would have believed when there were so many others that made more sense? If she wanted to lie, there were millions of other stories far easier to believe, and then no one would have been the wiser. So, why something so convoluted?"_

_"Because it was the truth?"_

_"Precisely, Ratbat. And because there was no way _that_ could be a lie, they believed her."_

_"Because it is so unbelievable that it must be truth."_

Well, slag. Ravage just _had_ to say that, didn't he?

That means Starscream isn't the only one to suspect his 'ally'.

And, obviously, it isn't just him that is getting close to something.

After a moment of tension, the Seeker slowly moves to be leaning back against the wall again.

"If it can't be anything but truth, why do you doubt it?" He asks, calmly, carefully, and the panther's optics narrow into a more piercing glare.

"Because it is _too fitting_. I served under the original Megatron, I _knew_ Starscream. And _he_ was the one to teach us _that_ lesson. I wouldn't be surprised to see him using that tactic."

… At least he's being sincere _now_.

"After everything I've learnt about him, _I_ would be. He doesn't sound the most _judicious_ of mechs, or the _sanest_."

But Ravage smirks, optics glinting, and Starscream is starting to develop the feeling that their beast mode and Bestial variant are starting to become a bit _too_ literal.

He's being cornered, and he knows it, and, worst of all, the Predacon knows it too.

"Ah, but that is what _Starscream_ would want others to believe. Isn't that right? Megatron, Optimus Primal, Galvatron—"

"Galva-who?"

Ravage freezes.

The Seeker knows he's being analyzed far more intently now than any other previous time, but he doesn't care, because his confusion, for once, is thoroughly sincere.

He has absolutely no idea who the Covert Agent is talking about, and he's more than willing to let the other know.

After some of the longest nanokliks of his function, the Predacon straightens menacingly, not bothering hiding his snarl.

"Galvatron. The mech who led the Decepticons to their defeat? The one that _deactivated_ Starscream?"

With a scoff, the Flier pushes off the wall and approaches the larger mech, who takes a couple steps back until he trips with the chair to fall into it, his sitting position allowing the Decepticon to finally level a glare right into the wide red optics without need to tilt his helm.

"For the last time, I am _not_ that treacherous scrap-pile sharing my name! Yes, I'm called Starscream, and I have null-_blades_, and I'm a Seeker, but that is it! I. Am. Not. That _Starscream_!"

… Huh. Who could have thought he would ever end up speaking his own designation as if it was the foulest of curses?

With a defeated groan, and ignoring the gobsmacked Predacon in the pilot seat, the Flier covers his faceplate with his servos and turns around.

And, when the thumps into the wall, he lets his servos fall and smashes his forehelm against the metallic surface a couple more times, though gently enough to only evoke some tingling.

"Always the same. Always the _slagging_ same. Can't I go _one_ meeting without being compared or accused of being that bastard?" He bemoans, and, as he's not expecting an answer, he thumps his helm against the wall once more, this time a bit stronger.

Because he is _not_ the Starscream everyone talks about, but he _would have become him_ one way or another over time, if they had never been transported to the past, so, in a way, he is as guilty of that mech's existence as this Galvatron character.

Or, well, no, he's not, because that Starscream ends up becoming a ghost, assumedly after being deactivated by the one that brought the Decepticons to loss—and what happened with Megatron, he has no idea, and he's not sure he wants to know—and so it's _impossible_ that he ever becomes him, as his spark is _not_ indestructible.

No matter how harder it is to convince himself every time the topic is brought to his processor.

He lets out another sigh—and it _is_ a sigh, no matter that it sounded like a whimper—but doesn't move from the wall or tries to slam his helm against it again, once more chasing his thoughts in never-ending circles.

It's a small eternity later that he is finally jolted back to the present by the beeping of an incoming communication, and, if the tension of the frame and the surprised expression are any clue, Ravage is as startled as him by the noise.

Swinging around in his seat, the Predacon immediately opens the line.

::This is Optimus Primal calling Ravage, come in.::

"Ravage here. Report."

::It was a trap, as you suspected. Cheetor and I managed to get rid of Inferno while Ramjet tracked down the cubes to a nearby cave, though. We'll be back with the Energon in no time.::

"Excellent. We will be awaiting your arrival eagerly. Ravage out."

::Optimus out.::

And the line closes.

The panther's attention, however, is on the Seeker, optics suspicious but also pondering, and, for less than a nanoklik, Starscream allows himself to hope that his true identity hasn't been revealed after all.

They exchange no words as they go back to the brig, but the Flier doesn't need to be told to give nothing away as he sees—and, as soon as his arm and shoulder feathers go black, feels—Ravages's seriousness and the dark amusement under it.

As thus, the first words the black and silver mech gives the Predacon leader are—

"So. It was a trap."

Expectedly, Megatron answers with a mocking grin.

"Oh, no. _Really_?"

And Ravage returns it sharp enough to make the Tyrannosaurus tense.

"Next time, tell your Predacons to hide the cubes farther than the next cave over."

"_What_?!"

"If you want to see the pieces of Inferno when the Maximals come back, I'll gladly oblige."

"And what did you expect? I am not naïve. You have no intention of returning me, or any of us, to Cybertron alive."

The lack of reaction from the black and silver Predacon, both visible and in his field, reveals that Megatron's words are true.

However, there's a hint of nervousness along the briefest of glances to the Seeker, but Starscream remains as immutable as Ravage.

He has no intention to let the Decepticons be deactivated, and, with the resources now at their disposition, he has no need for a ship anyway.

And, if he can send the Maximals ahead to _their_ Cybertron before they go back home, neither will they.

"That is true." The panther finally answers, truthfully for once, as he makes some guns drop from the ceiling at a click on the console. "But your crew is scattered." He adds, positioning himself behind one of the weapons. "Still. Why should I tolerate your existence any longer?" He asks almost conversationally, a last 'nice' attempt to obtain information before resorting to the… _unpleasant_ ones.

Megatron chuckles, a confident smile on his face, and, almost unseen, Starscream's optics narrow.

Just _what_ is he planning now?

"Did you ever wonder _why_ I stole the Golden Disk in the first place?"

_No!_

His soundless gasp, along the tension of his frame, have not gone unnoticed, at those words, and so the Flier curses himself silently after Ravage's quick look.

"It's madness." He hisses before any of the Predacons can proceed, attracting Megatron's oily smirk and the Covert Agent's suspicious glance.

"I see that treacherous Dinobot filled you in, yes. I'm surprised you, of all mechs, would go against my plan. Yet again, you do _not_ know how it came to be."

"It's madness one way or another!"

"Explain yourself." Ravage cuts, his words clearly an order, as he stares the smug Tyrannosaurus down.

"But of course. Now, I am sure you were led to believe I was merely looking for Energon, but that was not my original intention, no. While it was a bonus, and allowed me to recruit a crew and gain potential for power, the real reason was not it."

"Megatron—"

"Starscream, _shut up_." The panther growls, and, when he turns to the Bestial, the Seeker feels as if the floor had vanished from under his pedes.

There's something dark, feverish, in his optics, something that _most clearly_ doesn't belong in the being that is Ravage, past or future.

_"After the Great War, a few Decepticons were granted amnesty. Most have retired, but rumor has it that one was reprogrammed and rebuilt. As a _Predacon_."_

Rebuilt? Yes, quite obviously.

Reprogrammed? He's starting to fear it is yet another affirmative, as well as more than enough reason to merit one of their—_his_—Megatron's punishments, because_ how could he have overlooked **that**_?

"The Golden Disk was launched from Earth aboard the _Voyager_'s space craft, just as the secret war between the Autobots and Decepticons began."

_"So, any news from the sky spy?"_

_"Sky spy, Starscream? We have no such thing."_

_"So quickly do you forget, _Mighty_ Megatron, that you asked Shockwave for a small pod craft to install one in that _Voyager_ satellite the humans launched a month ago?"_

_"Ah, of course. I forgot you were _busy_ to have heard the latest news."_

_"_You_ were the one to throw me in the brig after—"_

_"Yes, yes. You _deserved_ that."_

_"Why, you—!"_

_"Now, about the _sky spy_… It was destroyed. Space debris, apparently. It is quite clear the humans didn't build their ships to be as resistant as our own, and so the spy was easily damaged to the point of uselessness. So, there is no sky spy. Now, return to your duties."_

_"I _knew_ it was a loss of time. But, _nooo_. You _had_ to waste our resources on that stupid—"_

_"Don't test my patience, Starscream. Now, go away!"_

"The glitch! So that is what he did instead of installing a _real_ sky spy!"

A gasp.

That is all that the Decepticon needs to be pulled out of his rage.

And to finally _remember_ he is _not alone_.

His company, however…

"I knew it." Megatron gloats, voice almost inaudible, as he smiles like a kid in a candy store.

Ravage, however, does _not_ look pleased.

If he had optic lasers, Starscream would be naught but a pile of ash on the floor.

_Aw, slag. Me and my big mouth. And isn't it ironic that Megatron, the one to always tell me it would get me in trouble, is the reason I _am_ in trouble?_

Yes, ironic.

And life-threatening.

"Ra—"

"Auto-guns, target all Decepticon signatures!"

The Seeker's spark stops pulsing, only to restart at a further frantic rhythm when the two weapons hanging from the ceiling swivel to aim at him, a soft hum signaling they're charged.

_Double slag._

"Traitor." The panther hisses, ears pulled back and fangs bared as his optics _blaze_.

"No! No, this isn't what it looks like! I'm not—!"

"_Silence_!" The silver and black Predacon roars, and Starscream flinches back in an instinctive reaction, the extra ruff of fur around the panther's head making him resemble Megatron—_his_ Megatron—far too much for the Seeker to stand still when threatened with his ire. "I will hear _no more_ from the mech that _condemned us all_!"

"No, I—"

"It is because of _your treachery_ that Megatron was deactivated and Galvatron became leader of the Decepticons, sending us to our destruction!"

"I—_what_?! No, I would never—!"

"_Enough_! You deactivated Megatron, my brothers, _Soundwave_! _You_ lost us Cybertron, _you_ lost us the _war_!"

"I—"

But Ravage doesn't answer this time, most likely because the soft squeak that has become Starscream's voice has gone unheard.

Instead, the panther ignores the visibly shaking Seeker pressed against a wall to turn to the eerily gleeful Predacon in the cell.

"Should I continue my explanation?"

"Do it."

"As I was saying, the Golden Disk was launched with the _Voyager_. Now, the original Megatron, Commander of _both_ of you—" And the look he sends the still frozen in shock Flier is almost possessive, reminiscing of that first meeting seemingly years ago. "—had every intention of winning. But, like myself, he covered his bets. He inscribed a secret message into the Golden Disk. A message which I myself discovered, and decoded."

Ravage's tail is still twitching, but he looks serious, hard and cold as Cybertanium, as he stares at the prisoner.

"Am I expected to believe you? You said yourself the Golden Disk was destroyed." The panther hisses, a clear threat, and, as answer, the Tyrannosaurus merely gestures to his bindings.

After a nanoklik, the silver and black mech takes his guns in his servos, aiming them at Megatron's head, and, if he wasn't too stunned by the new information—_You deactivated Megatron, my brothers, _Soundwave_! _You_ lost us Cybertron, _you_ lost us the _war_!_—Starscream would have smirked at the clear fear in the Predacon leader's optics and faceplate and field.

Field. He still has his sensors rammed to their max, he's still tied to Ravage's ire, to his grief, his pain, his _hatred_—

The black on his plating vanishes with a gasp, and, no longer swamped by the emotions, the Decepticon _finally_ manages to push everything away, to _focus_—

Megatron, free of his bindings, puts a large shard of the Golden Disk in the modified end of his tail-arm and, making it spin, aims at the wall—

"And I'm not expecting _you_ to believe _me_."

The visual is grainy but clear, and so it is impossible to mistake the helm of the mech on it.

"Lord Megatron." The Flier gasps, once more frozen at the sight, because that is _not_ the Megatron he knows, the Decepticon, but, at the same time, he _is_.

The Megatron he met on Cybertron, back before the assault to the _Ark_ and crash-landing on Earth, before being reformatted with his Maltese Tiger alt mode.

The helm is bucket-shaped—and he remembers o so many laughs taken from that—but smooth and solid gray, without the rounded ears and filaments of gray and white fur and the black stripes in the characteristic gladiatorial markings he exhibited before the Decepticons gained their name, and that Teletraan I somehow managed to copy to mould the Tiger's stripes.

But if this was taken after the _Voyager_ launched, when they were already on Earth, how could—

"This is Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. And if you are hearing this, it means I failed. This time." The voice, however crackly it is by the damage to the shard, is still more than well known, and that chuckle is _so much_ like his leader, his _true_ leader, that the Flier can't think further, no matter the situation. "But I know transwarp technology is being developed, and so I leave this message to any Decepticon descendants that may find—may find—may _fwoo_—"

And the message cuts.

For a timeless eternity, Starscream can only stare at the blank wall, as if Megatron would appear again, this time the real deal, and—

_"Stalling?! Stalling for _what_?! For Megatron and his precious Shockwave to open a portal out of nowhere and carry us into the sunset like those pathetic human knights in shiny armor?"_

—get them all out of this mess.

Needless to say, as soon as he gets his senses back, the Seeker turns away from the wall, from that echo from a past even further back than when they're trapped now, yet barely half a year away—

"Retract bars." Ravage orders, and, after a soft feminine 'complying', the computer does exactly so as the prisoner looks down to eagerly watch them go offline.

"_No_! What are you doing?! That was clearly a fake, that was _not_ Megatron!" The Flier shouts, snarling but with his optics still wide in a silent plea, as he gestures to the empty wall. "Ravage, that was _not_ our leader! It was a pathetic attempt to get at us, to make the Predacons act as stupidly as _this one_! That wasn't—"

"_That_. Was. _My_. Leader." The panther cuts with a snarl, and Starscream's spark feels as if guttered. "Now, while Megatron and I talk business… Computer, block all communications, intercept Decepticon signals!"

_Wha—No!_

::Ravage's turned against—::

The line crackles noisily and painfully, and the Seeker can only wince as he presses a servo against the side of his helm, trying to get rid of the ringing in his audials and the static in his processor.

"We need to act fast. A comm link cutting so abruptly will have alerted the Maximals. We better—"

"If you will permit me. I have an idea as to _what_ we can do to bring your estranged _comrade_ around, yes." The larger Predacon interrupts, his smirk sending shivers up the Flier's neural cord, and, under the panther's piercing gaze, he brings a purple box-like contraption with the inside lined with Energon crystals out from subspace—

_"Megatron has Rampage's _spark_ in a box?!"_

_"Half his spark, according to what he said when he tried to get… Well."_

_"… Slag."_

_"Alright, new mission! Keep Screamer out of Mega-creep's servos at all costs!"_

_"I'm not a newspark, Rumble. I can take care of myself."_

_"Like you could when we found you? If Dinobot hadn't got Megatron then…"_

_"Ravage… Oh, alright. You can watch my back."_

_"Yay!"_

_"As if I needed your permission."_

_"Can it, Chopperface."_

_"Looks like Rattrap isn't a bad influence on _just_ the young ones, is he?"_

"Now, you wouldn't happen to have an Energon blade, do you?" Megatron asks, _leering_ at Starscream, and Ravage's dark grin doesn't help with his quickly growing panic.

"I can easily fetch it. Before that, though… Auto-guns, _fire_!"

* * *

**AN:** And another chapter done! Yay! I have to admit, as I was writing this one, I had the feeling it was never going to end. I was starting to think I would have to cut this chapter in two, but, fortunately, it didn't go that way.

Now, I'm afraid I'm going to be extremely busy in the near future, busier than lately, and so the sporadic updates are going to become even more so. That said, I hope you enjoy this long-ish chapter (and try not to kill me for the cliffhanger XP).

**Giddy:** It looks like no matter how much or how hard he tries, poor Screamer's plans always end up in disaster... And I swear I hadn't thought of things going _that_ badly!

Also, thanks for that image with Rattrap and the other Starscream XD I can actually see it happen, that's the best part!


	25. To Choose Death

The hissing of the soldering torch dies, replaced by the soft pops of cooling metal, and Rattrap gives the lumpy red hot seam a glare.

It's an awful sight—and the fact it's visible at all is a structural weakness—but, until it cools, they won't be able to smooth it, so...

"Eh, there you have it. At least the hull's whole again." He grumbles with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug, but Dinobot gives him a pointed glance that tells him just how successful he's been at that. "Now, we only need to find Bowser and drag him back to be given an earful about going around blasting walls."

"Will you drop the act now? You are fooling no one." The Predacon cuts as the Rodent stands, and, just because he can, the Maximal makes a show of looking around before giving his larger companion a lopsided smirk.

"I see no one I'd need to fool, Chopperface."

The Raptor growls lowly in the back of his throat, sharp teeth bared the tiniest bit, but doesn't move an inch from his arm-crossed, no-nonsense stance.

In a nanoklik, Rattrap's nonchalance and lazy smirk vanish, leaving a slightly hunched and almost defeated mech behind.

"And what do you want me to do, huh? I just found out _I_ am the reason the little guys are without a Creator." And, as the words leave his voice box, something ignites deep in his chest, bringing a snarl up to his faceplate as he rounds on the Predacon. "A _Decepticon_! The brother of the same _beast_ we have now prowling around! The guy was going to _scrap us_! _All of them are trying to scrap us_! But, _no_, I am _not_ allowed to mope around 'cause I deactivated the creeps trying to off us. And now I can't even _be myself_?! _Make up your mind_!" He shouts, gesturing madly, but the Raptor stays still, merely observing with optics that see too much. "_And quit staring at me like I'm the freak around here_!"

The clang of metal on metal echoes around the corridor for a moment, but the ringing in his audials takes longer to dispell.

And, when it _does_ go, the pain on his cheek settles in, making him wince and raise a tentative servo to the slightly dented surface while his wide optics follow the arch of Dinobot's servo as it's lowered to his side.

"Are you going to start thinking _now_?" The Raptor hisses, voice deep and tightly lashed, as if he would resort to verbally ripping him apart the next time instead of slapping him, and Rattrap flinches.

"I..."

"Well?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll stop blabbering. I... Chopper, I—"

"_Don't_."

Without another word, Dinobot turns around and walks away.

The Maximal's spark constricts painfully, forcing his breaths to come in short gasps, his systems overheating in turn and his voicebox refusing to make more than soft rasps and squeaks, optics blurring as the temperature spikes, though not dangerously.

No, it isn't dangerous. No Cybertronian has ever died for crying.

He resents that now, because he would like nothing more than for his mistake-ridden existence to end, to spare his friends the pain and horror of his errors and faults and—

A hissed growl snaps the Rodent out of his self-pity, and, taking away the servos he didn't realize he'd raised to cover his faceplate, he sees the blurry brown-cream-blue shape at the end of the corridor turn and approach his kneeling and curled form with loud yet soft pede-steps.

"Dinobot?"

The figure doesn't answer, but, as it lets itself fall heavily to sit Indian style in front of him, Rattrap doesn't need it to.

"You need to calm down."

"... I know."

"And we should be going."

"But..."

"You can't avoid them forever."

Breathing slowly normalizing and sight returning, Rattrap turns away, staring at the bunch of tools lying around, waiting to be collected and put in their places once more.

"Can't I stay away for a bit longer?" He whispers, voice close to a begging whine but at least no longer glitching.

"Do you actually believe that would change anything?" The Rodent looks up at that, glaring half-heartedly at the unfazed Predacon. "You know better than to hide behind falsehoods and empty hopes, Vermin. And _they_ know better than to hold judgement over you by a crime you did not commit."

"A crime I didn't—I deactivated their creator!" He shouts, suddenly on his feet and grabbing the Raptor's shoulder-guards as he presses close enough to snarl right in his faceplate.

Instead of slapping him, Dinobot merely scowls this time, though he can feel him tense as he fights to restrain himself.

"_Think_! You were acting in self defense. In defense of _every single member of the crew_. And _that_, unless you've finally managed to fry every remaining working motherboard of that pile of second-grade junk you call a processor, also includes Ravage and Rumble."

For a moment, the words don't compute, bouncing disorderly around his head and refusing to make sense.

And then, Rattrap's servos fall to his sides as his optics widen and lose focus, realization making his lower jaw fall.

"They... You mean..."

"Hadn't you intervened, _their own creator_ would have deactivated them." The Predacon finishes, far more somber than before, and Rattrap's legs vanish from under him, leaving him gracelessly sitting on the ground, gaping like a fish out of the water.

From the corner of his optic, he sees Dinobot turn away to stare at the newly repaired wall without actually looking at it.

"Mayhap they were not aware of their presence, as I suspect it was the Maximal High Council who ordered their relocation, or it could even be the Tri-Predacus Council did not even know of their existence, so secretly did their creators keep it, but I doubt that. Regardless of the reasons behind the orders, they were given. And they would have been executed."

"But... I still killed their creator. Their _father_, Chopperface. I... How could they ever..."

"If Laserbeak was able to reach you now, I am positive he would thank you for stopping him. Even if the price for the lives of his offspring was his own function." And Rattrap finally looks up from the floor to meet Dinobot's solemn expression. "If the Decepticon—_When_ the older Ravage calms down and analyzes the situation objectively, he will reach the same conclussion, to be sure."

"But _they_ won't. They're newsparks who lost their family. And I'm the one that took it away."

The Predacon turns away with a low growl and a grimace, before finally straightening.

"You are going to bring them back to their carrier. And, despite of this painful discovery, you must remember that they did move on, not so long ago. Looked for or not, we are their family now. No matter how bizarre and unorthodox we are, individually or as a group."

"Are you saying _we_ are kinda related now?"

"By the inferno, no! May the Pit take my spark the very instant such happens."

"Agreed, Dino-butt."

And, after an instant of silence and seriousness, the two mechs exchange rueful smiles.

"We'll be seeing each other in the Inferno, won't we?"

"Must you ask such obvious questions, Rodent?"

"Nah." Rattrap answers with a chuckle, waving a servo, before his smile slowly slips away once more. "But still..."

"Argh, that's it!" Dinobot interrupts, throwing his servos up before poking at the Maximal's chest plates with a clawed dactyl. "You're seeing Starscream as soon as he's back. Surely he will be able to knock some sense into that tangled mess you call a processor. Or he will _dig up_ the truth from the remote depths you have hidden it."

Against his will, the Maximal shudders, and the Predacon sends him a too sharp grin when he spots it.

"Don't you dare say anything, Chopperface! That processor-reading ability of his is even creepier than the whole clone thing." He hisses back with a scowl, which quickly morphs into a grimace. "Well, no, not that much, but almost."

"I won't be the one disagreeing about the... _peculiarities_ of out comrade." The Raptor answers with a shrug, and Rattrap snorts before getting back to his pedes and start putting the tools back in their box.

"Come on, Princess 'I-can't-lift-a-tool-to-save-my-rusty-aft'."

"Is the Little Prince saying he is as useless as to be unable to put his own toolbox back in proper order?" The Predacon retorts, but he stands up and helps nevertheless.

The atmosphere is light and comfortable as they exchange jabs and insults all the way to the bridge, but that's as far as it goes.

For a moment, even after they enter and receive Rhinox's patented optical ridge lift, the Transmetal can almost pretend that things are as they used to be, before the arrival of Big Ravage, back when it was good times despite their being stranded in a past Earth with the threat of Predacon attack hovering over their helms.

When Rumble greeted him with a lopsided grin and an insult, instead of the hint of teeth before sharply turning away, and Ravage's optics were warm and eager to see how he would retort, rather than stubbornly staying away as if he didn't exist.

"We are done fixing the hull. Any other _errands_ you feel we must be sent to?" Dinobot scoffs, breaking Rattrap out of his reverie, and the brown and green Maximal shakes his helm.

"Nothing else right now. But be ready, Optimus has gone to retrieve the Predacons' Energon with Ramjet and Cheetor, and they may need help bringing it back." The engineer answers, returning to his screens.

"Will do, buddy." The Rodent returns with as nonchalant a tone as he can muster, which, to be sincere, isn't that good, but at least the Rhinoceros knows him enough to know not to turn or speak up about it. "Well... I guess, until we get their call, we can, huh, wait somewhere else?"

It wasn't supposed to be a question, but that's how it comes off as.

An opening.

And, never one to let those go, Rumble snorts.

Loudly.

But, at least, he doesn't speak.

_Ravage_ does.

"Are you really going to slunk away to hide in your room like a chastised newspark?"

Rattrap freezes mid-step, as does the rest of the room.

The mini-Decepticon's eerily cat-like optics—despite there being nothing feline in them when in his robot mode—stay fixed on the Maximal, slicing through layers of plating into his spark as easily as an Energon blade through jellified Energon sweets.

"No."

It takes way too long for the Rodent to realize it has been him who has spoken.

But, when he does, he finds that he can't stop.

"I'm not hiding. I'm trying to protect you. I hurt you, badly, and I don't want to do it again." He lifts his helm and meets the brothers' gazes without fear or hesitation, only with the pain and the remorse squeezing at his spark. "So, if seeing me reminds you of your creator, I'll make it so that you don't see me."

"You don't." The Weasel grumps, crossing his arms and turning away with something between a grimace and a scowl. "You don't remind us of our creator. You... We _trusted_ you. You left your biases behind long before we met you. But _one simple word_... One word, and suddenly we're the worst of the worst. _Stinking Decepticons_." Ravage flinches, before mirroring his younger sibling's uncassifiable expression. "You have no idea what it _means_ to be a Decepticon. To be stomped on by everyone, to be the lowest of scum, to be the _humble servant of the true leaders of Cybertron_." Rumble hisses, and if the tone ins't outright poisonous, the snarl is most definitely able to extinguish sparks.

The words, though...

"Wait, _wait_. You mean this isn't about—"

"This is about _everything_!" Ravage shouts, a hand slashing the air as his faceplate twists with too much agony to comprehend. "This is about carrier and creator and _everyone_! About the past and the future and this—this—_this_! Do you know how much we lost because a bunch of arrogant idiots that thought being Decepticons meant we were even worse than _the worst_?! _The only thing worse than a stinking Pred is a stinking _Decepticon! Well, we're _not_! And they were not! They—They are—were—the best mechs—some of—I—I..."

And Rumble is suddenly there, hugging his brother and being tightly hold in return.

_Worse than the worst..._

Rattrap's mouth opens, and closes, and opens, and finally stays closed, his cheek stinging.

_"Are you going to start thinking _now_?"_

And so, he thinks.

_"One word, and suddenly we're the worst of the worst."_

"You... think of yourselves as Decepticons?"

The Cassettes tense despite how low his voice has been, having obviously heard, but it takes almost a full minute before they look up from the floor to glare at them.

"What if? You gonna insult us to our faces now?" Rumble spits, baring his fangs.

"I'm going to apologize."

The smaller mechs startle despite how useless such words would be in a similar situation.

But not in this one.

Because Rattrap is sincere, and he's not afraid to leave himself bare for these two Maximal-allied-Predacons-slash-Decepticons that have become part of his bizarre but extensive family, alongside Rhinox and Cheetor and the Seekers and Dinobot.

And they know it.

That's why the brothers look away, exchanging speaking glances, before grabbing their servos and looking up at the expectant Rodent.

He opens his mouth to elaborate, to explain how big of an idiot he is, to let himself be blinded by one word when the knowledge that they were Predacons had long since stopped being important, but he doesn't have the chance to do so, because the console beeps then, and all their attention is suddenly on the screen and Rhinox, siting in front of them.

"_Axalon_ here." The Rhinoceros answers, and an image of Optimus flickers but for a moment before appearing onscreen. "Any news?"

::The best kind. We found Inferno guarding the coordinates and no sign of the cubes, but Ramjet located them in a nearby cave. We're securing them now, and will be on our way in some minutes. Predacon Ravage has already been told.:: Their leader explains with a smile, and they can hear the soft bickering of Cheetor and the Conehead in the background, even if they can't make out the words. ::We're going home.::

Rhinox smiles widely, but Rattrap and Dinobot exchange a doubtful look before turning to the brothers.

Servos still clasped together, they look as unsure as the two larger mechs.

If only there was _anything_ he could say or do to help... But, as it is right now, his best bet is take a step back and let them ponder over his unspoken apology.

Though maybe—

The Cassettes perk up suddenly, without apparent reason, before curling over themselves with pained yelps, clutching their helms, and, before he can think it through, Rattrap is kneeling at their side, servos hovering over them, as the others turn to them.

"What is it? What happened?"

"It—Starscream contacted us, but the signal cut! All of a sudden, it cut!" Rumble rushes out, eyes wide with fear as he clenches the Rodent's dactyls. "He said something about Ravage turning and then—" His breath hitches, his next words swallowed by a pained gasp, and the Maximal loses no more time than the needed for a slight widening of his optics before slipping out of the Cassette's grip and rushing into the lift.

Ravage 'turned' and Starscream's call cut suddenly.

He doesn't have to be a genius to know what happened—or a realist to think of the most plausible, and, coincidentally, worst case scenario.

_Betrayed._

He jumps off the lift even before it lowers half the way, catching Rhinox and Dinobot's shouts from the sliver of bridge still visible, and lands on his four rat paws before taking of at the fastest run possible towards the Predacon ship, immediately changing to his wheeled variant when he gets to the rock path so as to not kick up too much dust.

A bit more, a bit more, a bit _more_...

The vessel takes off with a silent hum, becoming invisible along the way, and, as the landing gear retracts, Rattrap barely manages to slip inside before the shuttles close on his tail.

Breathing heavily, the Rodent can only stay sprawled on the cool and dark metallic floor for some time, calming his systems and clearing his processor.

Betrayed. They were betrayed by Predacon Ravage—weird to think of the large Bestial like that when a moment before he was Decepticon Ravage—and he had Starscream captured before the Seeker could do more than give them the smallest of warnings.

And Rattrap decided, in a split second decission that is most likely going to cost him his spark, to play hero and infiltrate the ship to rescue whatever is left of the Falcon.

_Don't think like that!_

He shakes his helm and stands up wobbily for a moment, before transforming silently and taking his gun in his servo.

Now, to be an annoying rat and scurry around the ship.

Time doesn't seem to exist as he moves quietly through ominous and forebording and way too shiny empty corridors, but it's obvious when the rest of Maximals arrive by the sudden lurch and muted explosion that send him flat on his face, but he takes it as his cue and doesn't bother staying quiet as he breaks out into a run.

And then, finally, he finds their missing comrade.

_Too late._

There's a pile of blackened metal against a wall, with ankles and wrists cuffed.

Unmoving.

He barely notices a startled Tarantulas standing at the bunch of screens against a wall, and so the spider's shot almost gets him.

Almost.

With a loud snarl, he lifts up his gun and slams the bug against the consoles, leaving him lying groggily on the bunch of sparkling machinery under screens now flashing red.

He doesn't care.

The only thing that matters, the only thing he can focus on, is getting to Starscream's side and making sure he's still alive.

As demonstrated by the grimace and groan when he turns the Seeker onto his back, he is.

Red optics light up slowly, glaring at him, and Rattrap can't help but let out a breathless laugh.

"Hey, Screecher. Don't move to much yet. I'll get you out and we'll fix you up and then you can rant at me for being an idiot and playing hero, 'kay?" The Predacon mumbles something under his breath as he cuts through his bindings, likely insults, but the Rodent doesn't listen, carefully helping him up once he's free. "Let's get out, alright, Feathers? Think you can walk?"

"Slagging right I can, Vermin." The Falcon hisses, still using him as support, but standing straighter. "Let's get out."

"Your wish is my command." The Rat snickers, only to yelp an instant later when another explosion sends them back to the ground.

The beeping of the machines grows louder, more urgent, and sparks start to fall from other machines, from cabling and—_everywhere_!

"It's gonna blow!" Tarantulas shouts, rushing away from the room, and, after exchanging a wide-eyed look, the other two stumble back to their pedes and try to follow as fast as they're able.

"We're not gonna make it, we're not gonna make, _we're gonna die_!"

And the world explodes.

It... kind of doesn't hurt.

So, slowly, dreading what he will see, Rattrap onlines first one optic, then the other, and blinks.

Nothing.

Literally nothing, only an inky and complete darkness enveloping him, nothing to see anywhere, not up, or to the sides, or even down.

Well, no, he can see his searching arms, waving madly in an attempt to find _any_ kind of resistance, and his legs kicking as he discovers the lack of ground, in a reflexive attempt to swim, or something, and hear his strained gasp when he realizes there is _nothing_.

But, when he tries to speak, not a sound comes out.

He tries again, with the same results, and then buries his helm in his servos and curls up with a pitiful whimper.

_Oh, so _that_ I can hear._

_... I thought the Matrix would be lighter._

Because what else can he think?

The ship exploded—whether all of it or just the part they were in—and so the only reasonable conclusion is that he's dead.

Deactivated, done, kaputt, bye bye, see you in another life.

Lost. Worthless. Useless.

_I failed._

He tried to live, and he failed—_the dust settles, and, amidst his shrill curses, he notices the lack of three silhouettes, and disbelieving optics turn towards the destroyed building—_he tried to do some good, and he failed—_found out, but how, how, _how_, and _it doesn't matter_, you have to run, just for a while, but go, leave, hide—_he tried to keep the world from being turned upside down, and he failed—_stranded in the middle of fragging _nowhere_, but with more than enough Energon to start a war as soon as they get back, and so _no one_ will return—_and, when he tried to do _one_ thing, correct _one_ mistake, he failed at that too.

He's deactivated, Starscream is most likely also deactivated—unless he truly is like his namesake—and, whatever happens next, he won't be there to _at least_ try to help.

Oh, no. He's going to be trapped for all eternity in this bizarre Cybertronian Hell with the tentacle monster.

_What? ... __**What?!**_

Optics flash online as he uncurls and takes his servos off his faceplate, staring in horror at the thin inky black cable wrapped around one wrist, blending in or coming out or being part of whatever this darkness surrounding him is.

The Maximal jerks back, trying to slip free of the _thing_, with a strangled cry, waving his arm madly and scratching at it, when, suddenly, there's a second one around his other wrist.

Just like that, like it had always been there.

And another around one ankle. And yet one more wrapped around his middle—or maybe it's more than one, he can't be sure—and another around the upper arm, and a calf, and his _neck—_

They're everywhere, more and more and more, and he twists and curls and uncurls and scratches and pulls, scared gasps and whimpers growing louder and louder as he pleas wordlessly for this nightmare to _end—_

A rasp, at his back, freezes him in place.

There's something else in the blackness, something dangerous, something deadly, something _rotten_.

He trembles, and whimpers, as he not-feels the thing move closer and around him, and then he _sees_.

Two deadly and endless abysses of white staring right at him, twisting slightly, analyzing him, before they turn and disappear—

The tentacles tighten their grip around his arms, suddenly becoming talons and the darkness _vanishes_, replaced by an explosion of light and he's _falling—_

He screams, the wind taking the sound away, as the world reappears all around him, the river far below, the cliffs, the bushes and grasses extending endlessly under the sunset—

Something black appears at his sides, and he turns.

Blades of black, like helicopter blades, flapping as if they were wings.

Long and incredibly sharp and spindly but strong talons wrapped around his upper arms.

A shadow over him, with the blade-wings and the thin talons attached to a long and scrawny black frame that looks too _skeletal_ to belong to a living mech, long tail-feathers slithering behind them like probbing feelers or living whips.

And a short but sharp beak twisting so that one void of light of an optic can stare into Rattrap's own as the lower face splits open into insectoid-like mandibles—

"_**Are you alright?**_"

The voice is raspy, raspier, sounding almost kind of layered static modulated to somehow conform words.

That doesn't make it any less recognizable.

"_Starscream_?"

"_**I'll take that as a yes.**_"

When they land, in front of a bunch of flabbergasted and freaked out Maximals and Predacon and kind-of-Decepticons, Rattrap ends up sprawled on the ground, too confused and shaken to control his body enough to stay on his pedes, but no one approaches.

Instead, he hears the clicking and whirring of transformation, and clawed dactyls as long and spindly and deceitively strong as the talons previously wrapped around his arms help him up.

Starscream is tall, skeletal, and black, with optics as white as if they were lense-less, with a wider chest and bug-like—_crab-like—_mandibles, and the feathers previously arranged on his arms and shoulders now stand on his back like spines—_like crab legs_.

In short, _terrifying_.

But, despite the void of white, the unreadable faceplate, the wraith-like appearance, he's still gentle when he holds it until he regains his footing, and his voice is still determined and firm regardless of the distortion.

"Starscream...?"

"_**Yes.**_"

"What happened...?"

"_**Don't ask.**_"

The Maximals exchange a look as the Cassette brothers press against a lost Ramjet's legs.

"What now?" Rattrap finally asks, tilting his helm back to stare at the former—or so he assumes—Seeker.

"_**We go to the **_**Ark**_**.**_"

* * *

**AN:** Er... Hi? Long time no see, right?

Sorry, got irreversibly tangled up with RL, wrote two different chapters for this one (that's what happens when you bring a notebook at work and have a slow day, while having the main fic in the computer -.-), so then I had to try and choose which of the two I liked best, and ended up writing a _third_ chapter XD

That said... _The Agenda_, why you no **cooperate**?! *raging around* Slag it, you're a harder chapter to write than any I've found before. *fumes* But I'll do it, you just wait. I will.

Now, about this chapter... Well. Ask away?

No promises about the next one, just to be on the safe side, but, at the earliest, it'll be up next weekend (and no, I don't mean two days from now).

Read you later, everyone!

**Giddy:** The day Starscream doesn't think out loud, we're throwing him a party XD But, yes, that wasn't the best time for that kind of slip... I'm glad you liked Starscream's conundrum, it was really fun to write ^^ As for Ravage... :P There won't be any convincing now, I'm afraid. Silly brain o mine decided to go _bang_. Silly brain.

Now, me ending stories tragically? *puts up innocent face* Wherever did you get that idea?

(About Rattrap's vignette, that says you're really good at characterization. Can't wait to read some of your stories :D)

**Blazeraptor:** 'Cause he wouldn't be Screamer if he didn't self-sabotage XD


	26. Cracking Time

"—ship _wrecked_, our only _chance_—"

"—slagging _**Ark**_?! And you didn't think to—"

"—to protect you! We had no assurances—"

And just like that all the way since they left the _Axalon_ with the bare minimum of shielding.

Primal and Dinobot—who is now hanging uncomfortably from Starscream's talons, too unnerved at the seemingly frail mech's newfound strength, something easily demonstrated by the tight grip he keeps on his forelegs—were forced to tell everything about the Golden Disk and the Predacon's true plans as soon as the Decepticon Seeker revealed that bomb, and, as expected, none of the Maximals took that well.

He doesn't have to try to know it's giving the Cassettes and Ramjet a splitting processor-ache, and that the nerves and patience of the rest are almost at their end.

After all, Starscream has been feeling the same symptoms since long before the other Decepticons started scowling.

Though that may be a side-effect of the explosion. He still feels kind of woozy from that.

Or from lack of Energon. His systems have been pinging him unceassingly since what feels like forever, but may only be a couple hours. Or three. Or four—_or eight bright and pulsing sparks, just in reach, just __**there**_—

"Hey! Not so tight!" Dinobot shouts, squeezing his forelegs, and Starscream loosens the grip he unknowingly strengthened.

Yes. _Woozy_.

He remembers the brig, and the feeling of betrayal, and Ravage turning and the Predacon leader being released and _pain_—

And darkness.

An empty and engulfing inky nothingness, with only phantom sensations and what could have _maybe_ been Rattrap's voice.

And a light, pleading and whimpering. Lost, alone, shrouded by shadow but so full of life...

He approached without moving, reached for it without servos—and recognized it.

He had forced himself to grab it—_him—_and tried with all his might to fly them out of there.

Against all odds, it worked.

And yet...

He has the feeling it didn't, that some part of him was left behind and the void was filled with the darkness, weighing him down, swallowing him, _consuming him like a black hole would a star, leaving behind just the echo of a __**star's scream**_—

A blink and it's suddenly night and a snowy peak stands tall and unmovable before them.

_What—When did we...?_

"Down there!" Cheetor exclaims, banking hard enough that Rattrap, riding on his back, lets out a squeak, and the rest follow towards the last spot they saw the white energy of their target's propellers.

They find a cave blocked by fallen rocks, but with one path opened—just as an explosion from the inside destroys their only entrance.

Confusion and apprehension fill the air as they land and transform, the Cassettes and Ramjet still staying carefully away from the Air Commander, and stare at the rocks.

"So, what do we do?" The Rat asks, looking up at Optimus, who lets out a tired sigh.

"Dig."

And dig they do.

It is slow-going despite their best efforts, with Dinobot, Rhinox and Primal, expectedly, making the bigger progress due to their size, up until Rumble jumps back with a snarl.

"Alright, I'm sick of it! Move!" The Weasel roars, arms morphing into large pile-drivers, and the rest don't need another word to do as they are told.

As soon as flattened metal strikes the ground, the whole mountain trembles, forcing the Cassette to step wobbily back with a squeak, a plume of scorching hot vapor erupting from a crevice on the rocky walls.

"Is this volcano _active_?!" Cheetor questions, moving even further away, and the Decepticons grimace.

_Lousy planning! What were you thinking? You _know_ it is, you should have said something!_

But he didn't. Fortunately, they didn't have to pay for it.

The longer they stay outside, though, the bigger the chances for disaster, and not necessarily volcano-related.

"Right now, I think we've got bigger problems." The Gorilla answers with a grimace, turning towards the grayish mech. "Rumble—"

"Are you _glitching_?! The volcano is _active_! This whole area is naturally unstable, now it's even worse! No way can I use these!" He shouts even before the order is given, changing his pile-drivers back into servos that he waves around almost madly. "Not unless you want us all to become molten slag!"

"I vote we don't." Rattrap pipes up, earning a glare from both Optimus and Rhinox. "Huh... shut up, Rattrap?"

And back to digging it is, with too long claws slashing through dirt and pushing rock around, constantly, without stop, deeper and deeper into the _darkness and the light hidden in it, the energy, the power, layers of metal peeling back to make way towards the spark_.

"Hey, not so fast! You're going to bury us under that boulder!"

A rumble, heavy but fast pede-steps, and a grunt.

And, when he looks up, the Falcon sees Dinobot grimacing before throwing away a large rock he had on his shoulders, Ravage curled next to the Raptor's pedes but staring at the Seeker in growing horror.

"Starscream! What are you doing? What's wrong?" The Rusty-Spotted Cat whispers, his worry joined by the Predacon's when he finally turns to them.

"_**That forger is making his way to the **_**Ark**_** at this very moment. What **_**isn't**_** wrong?**_" He growl-hisses, turning back to the dark dark path leading to the light, to the energy, to the... _Ark_?

_Light and energy? ... Gotta visit the CR Chamber when we're done here. Must've hit my head badly in that explosion._

A blink, and he's practically buried in rock again, so fast has he been digging.

Suddenly, light.

Red, burning, fluctuating mesmerizingly, and he finds himself blinded, stepping away with a grunt.

"Hey! Look at that!" Rattrap exclaims happily, and the sounds of shifting rock and the slithering of dirt falling that he hadn't noticed before become more frantic, faster.

"Keep digging! We're almost there!" Optimus orders, and, after shaking his helm and rebooting the spots out of his optics, the Seeker does precisely that, fueled by the flowing light in front of him and the swathes of worry and fear at his back, making his wings shiver in anticipation.

It won't be long now. Soon, they will feast.

And Megatron will be no more.

_Megatron...?_

A gray helm and red optics, holographic maps bathing tired faceplates with bluish light before a sky blue servo presses the button to turn it off.

_"Come on, _Commander_. Rest now, or we're going to have to mop your processor off the floor in the on-cycle."_

_"Ha, ha. Real funny. ... You're not going to give me back the map, are you?"_

_"Soundwave's the nice one, you should know that by now."_

_"_Knocking me out_ is the _nice_ solution?"_

_"It spares you the walking, doesn't it?"_

Gray fur with black markings, red eyes with a tiny black pupil scanning the horizon while big but silent paws barely raise any dust with each step.

_"And you say you got the organics from here?"_

_"You see those mounds? Those are the entrances to their tunnels."_

_"And how am _I_ supposed to get to them? They're too small for this form."_

_"Well, _obviously_, you _don't_. Frenzy and Rumble will get in the tunnels and chase them out, and you will have to catch them once they're outside."_

_"... Are they fast?"_

_"If you're ready? Not enough."_

"Almost there!"

He startles at the unkown voice, claws staying half buried under dirt and rock as he jerks his helm up and sees brown and silver in a shape vaguely ressembling a humanoid metallic gorilla with a backpack throwing rocks away.

Maximals, and Predacons, and the _Ark_.

And the hypnotizing and tantalizing red light promising suculent sparks and charged Energon.

Without another thought, Starscream turns back to his own digging with renewed vigor.

_Almost there, almost there, almost—_

Rocks shift and dirt falls, and, with a soft crash, Optimus bursts into the cave, the rest following—

And see the Tyrannosaur and Blackarachnia enter a large vessel partially buried under volcanic debris, a lava lake separating them and bathing everything in hues of orange and red.

"No! By Primus, _no_!"

The doors close.

"Whoa... The _Ark_..." Cheetor whispers in awe, and the astonishment and disbelief he can feel practically dripping from his frame is immediately replaced by denial.

"_What_?!" Rumble screams, rounding on the Maximals, while Ravage shakes himself bodily and Ramjet takes in a shuddering breath.

"_That_ is the _Ark_?" The Conehead squeaks, pointing a shaking dactyl at the _gigantic_ vessel bearing an uncanny ressemblance to the much smaller one they know by the same name.

"It can't be... It's... It's..."

"_Ginormous_." The Weasel finishes his brother's sentence, and something clicks deep inside the inky blackness of the Peregrine Falcon's spark.

A grainy projection on a dark wall, an image that doesn't belong to the time it was recorded in.

A mech that was not—_could not—_be the one it actually _was_.

"_**It is...**_" He breathes out, and feels too many optics on his frame for how lowly the words came out. "_**That **_**is**_** the **_**Ark**_**.**_"

"But—"

"_**It **_**is**_**.**_" He cuts, and Ramjet takes a quick step away when his white optics meet his red ones.

Ravage gasps silently, and immediately grabs his brother's servo, attracting his attention.

Astonishment and hope are warring in their features when they finally look up at him without fear.

Something snaps in his spark, an agry and boiling tendril hissing and coiling over itself at the loss, and he feels feble all of a sudden, turning away to the ship and the tantalizing lava to try and keep the sudden weakness hidden.

And so, he sees the auto-guns drop and whirr around, aiming at the intruders.

At _them_.

Fortunately, he's not the only one to notice.

"Oh, brother." Rattrap groans, servos up as he takes a step away.

"Indeed." Dinobot grimaces, also retreating, a hand twitching towards his back, where his sword is resting in its sheath, but quickly aborting the gesture.

They duck for cover just as the first shot flies.

"We have to get Megatron out of there!" Primal shouts from behind some rocks, gun already on his servos. "Everything that _is_, the existence of the entire _universe_ depends on it!"

_"Megatron didn't come here for the Energon, did he. He came purposefully to Earth, but Earth never had Energon—not according to any databanks, at least. He came for the _Ark_."_

_"That's what you meant. When you said Maximals, Predacons and _all who came before_ would be destroyed..."_

Yes. Yes, they have to get that _glitch_ out of there, _now_.

"You've got it, Big Bot!" Cheetor exclaims, before transforming and shooting to the air as the rest also change or get on the move to get closer to the hull, and, consequently, to the weapons themselves.

The Cassettes climb to the black Seeker's back this time, no reluctance or fear to be felt, as they ready their own guns.

And, as soon as they're in a covered position behind some rocks, start firing.

The _Ark_'s shield, as expected, holds as strong as if untouched.

"Oh, man! That ship wasn't built, it was _born_!" Rattrap bemoans, huddling behind his boulder to recharge his gun, and Optimus smiles almost nostalgically from his spot next to the Rodent.

"Die-cast construction. It's a lost art." He almost whispers, optics unfocusing and shooting stopping as he immerses himself in his memories.

"Lost art? But..." Rumble asks softly, though he doesn't finish his query.

No need to do so and blow what's left of their cover.

_If the Autobots won the War, why would their knowledge be lost?_

A question for another time... if there is such a chance after this.

One of the _Ark_'s shots lands on a column of dark rock, breaking through its base and causing it to collapse and send the Maximals and their allies running to avoid being crushed.

"Concentrate your fire on that fusion cannon! If we can force a backlash—!" Optimus orders, clearly understood despite being cut by a second explosion too close to his position, and, shaking the dust out of his sight, Starscream smiles.

Or, at least, that's what he thinks he's doing. Judging by how the other Decepticons and Dinobot shudder or take a step back, it doesn't look like he's successful.

"_**Oh, shut up.**_" He scolds them, putting special emphasis on the _deadpan_ part of his voice, so that at least _this_ message gets through to them, and they all startle.

"No one said—"

"_**You were thinking way too loudly.**_" He cuts the Predacon, looking over his new shelter.

And activates his null-rays.

White lightning crackles over his plating as his wings' sensors and wires light up, blades unlocking and fanning open with a growing high-pitched whine as he charges his no longer recognizable signature weapon, more and more energy _and not enough, not enough, need more to bring that shield down, but there's no more energy in this frame, need—_

A rock falls into the pool at their backs, splatters of lava landing on the thin stripe of solid rock they're standing on—and vaporizing with a trickle of extra lightning as they reach the arcs of energy weaving between black armor.

_That._

Blade-wings fan back and down, and, with a mere thought, lightning _strikes_, racking the surface of the magma lake just behind them, growing and growing and growing and leaving strips of cooling black rock behind as it bounces between lava and armor, each arc bringing charge and energy and heat into wiring and frame and spark, more and more and more, until the point it feels like he has jumped right into the lake instead, his surroundings blurring and vanishing til he starts to think he never left the blackness after all, that he has just fallen into the _Inferno itself_.

_Finally, **finally**, the hunger is sated._

Energy flows and curls around him, faster and faster, as lightning steals the heat and light away from lava, the previously thin stripes turning into dark boulders that keep growing and growing and growing—

_Fear worry horror no please come back come back come back **don't leave us—**_

Optics snap online and, folding blazing wings in a sharp movement that both cuts the connection and swallows the white energy within their inky blackness, Starscream jumps to the air and flaps all the blades in unison towards the crashed vessel with just one thought.

_Shoot._

It is more of a shockwave than a single energy bullet, but he's managed to restrain and shape it enough that it crashes into the _Ark_'s shield and the shield only.

The cocoon flashes and disappears with a whoosh of crackling static and the explosions of all auto-guns as the returning power destroys them from the inside out.

That's all he manages to catch before gravity stakes its claim on his suddenly too heavy frame, pulling him to a denting crash against a too thin and too fragile layer of rock, already breaking apart under him.

Whispers call to him from below, heat and red light enticing with promises of energy to feed the now curled up and rebelling inkyness occupying the space that, once upon a time, belonged to a spark—

Besides, he can't move, he can barely keep his optics online, so why would his processor be protesting such a call?

With a sigh, Starscream's frame relaxes, feeling rock break and the blazing caresses of lava against black armor as it seeps through the cracks, soft as silk and warm like the touch of _family—_

A tentacle wraps around a wrist, and he feels dejà vú wash over him despite having never been in such a situation before, darkened optics brightening to activation—

And then he's pulled back into the air by the wrapped wrist, and he can only suck in a startled breath before crashing—more carefully this time—against metal.

"Gotcha!" Rattrap's voice exclaims, detaching his cable-tail from the Seeker's arm, while Dinobot carefully puts him back on the ground, releasing him once he sees he can stand on his own two feet. "Now we're even."

The Flier looks back at the sudden _gurgling_, just in time to catch the magma lake reclaiming the strips of solid rock he had been lying on a nanoklik before.

Had he staid there, not even molten slag would have been found.

"Yeah... _Yeah, I thin**k we are.**_" He manages to croak out once his processor finally reboots, feeling his energy return, and startling almost worse than the other two at the voice spewing out of his throat before it turns to modulated static once more.

_Had I ever sounded like that before? ... Had I ever sounded like what I do now?_

He doesn't know, he can't remember. And he's not sure if that's bad or not.

"Everyone alright?" Primal calls, stepping out of his shelter with Cheetor and Rhinox by his side, and, when they all answer affirmatively, he turns towards the closed doors of the _Ark_. "Come on, we still need to get inside."

"Leave that to us!" Rumble crows with a large smirk, before he and Ravage rush towards the control pannels, Ramjet following them a moment later when the brothers signal him to.

Using the Conehead's Crested Eagle mode as platform, the Cassettes get to work on the entry pannel, only to snarl and turn to them a moment later.

"It's jammed!" The Least Weasel snarls, desperation curling around him as dense as the lava bubbling almost cheerfully at their backs.

"That power surge must have damaged it." Ravage supplies, and, after a blink, Starscream transforms and flies up to them too.

"_**Then, we're using the backdoor.**_" The brothers smile widely at that, before the Rusty-Spotted Cat hops onto the black Seeker's back. "_**We're getting in through the ventilation system. Keep trying to open the door, we'll see what we can do from our end, **_**after**_** getting rid of that mockery.**_" He tells Primal, who grimaces and glances at the door before letting his shoulders slump.

"Alright. But focus on Megatron and Blackarachnia! Come to get us only, and I mean _only_, after you have stopped them! This mission is the only thing that matters now."

The words aren't fully out of his mouth when the Decepticons fly away, towards the larger, but not any harder to access grate, and slip inside as soon as they pull it back the necessary bit.

"_And come back in one piece!_"

He's not sure who says that, the voice distorting and lost too soon in the vents, but he pays it no mind.

_I know _someone_ won't come back, least of all whole, but it _won't be us_._

Despite the larger size—perhaps even large enough for the Maximals to get through, even if flying in it would be a really hard thing to do for their bigger frames and lesser mobility—the path to the bridge is the same, so, following the tingling of charging energy and the _glee_ and _anticipation_ and _victory_ alongside Ravage's directions, they arrive at their destination soon enough.

It's still too late.

The Predacon leader is hovering in front of an enormous and unmodified Optimus Prime, in stasis lock in his seat, with his cannon so charged it is almost blindingly bright, monologuing to himself.

A slash of his wing-blades, not even needing to transform to unlock his null-blades, make a big enough hole in the grate to allow them entrance—just as the Tyrannosaur shoots.

And the Autobot's helm explodes in a hurricane of power and light, throwing them around like dandelion seeds on a breeze, shrieks and shouts lost in the gale as the whole world seems to break all around them, their own frames changing back and forth between their original Cybertronian and the couple of Earthen ones from both their time as Decepticons and in the past, with Megatron's laughter all around them.

Megatron.

_Megatron._

_**Megatron.**_

Twisting in the maelstrom, using wings and engines and turbines as they come and go almost as if they were one, fueled and focused by one thought—only _one_ thought, of spilt Energon and mangled metal and guttered sparks—Starscream angles himself towards the origin of the sound.

_**MEGATRON.**_

He's monologuing again, but he can no longer distinguish words, just hear that voice, that laughter, that _mine mine mine **mine—**_

With a soundless shriek that seems to crack the universe around him like a stone against glass, the Seeker dives, despite the null-rays and null-blades coming and going and changing shape, and talons smoothing into pedes and elongating into claws over and over and over—

The Predacon looks up, faceplate distorting with horror as he reaches for something in his subspace, bright and shiny and energy and _mine mine mine **mine**_—

Darkness.

All-encompasing, immobilizing, smothering, weighing him down to the point he can't even tremble.

Like the inky nothingness, like mist in a swamp, like pods and debris and blizzards—

Like loss and despair and _failure_.

Starscream _refuses_ failure.

He fights against the darkness' hold, and, after a moment, he feels it shiver, and shudder, and shake—

And lose.

With a burst of energy and a roar, he bursts out of his prison, immediately zeroing in on his target—

"**_MEGATRON!_**"

They crash to the ground loudly, dust blowing all around them, shadowing his sight, but he doesn't need optics to raise clawed servos aiming to where he _knows_ the chest-seams to be, angling them to pierce as deep as the spark chamber if he hits strong enough—

"Starscream, you glitch! Have you lost all sense?!"

—And freezes.

The voice, the shape underneath his crouched frame, the faceplate he's slowly beginning to discern—

Something strikes from below, sending him flying to slam on his back far from his target, but he quickly rolls back to his pedes using the momentum from the hit, faceplate twisted with another deadly snarl—

And comes face to face with Megatron's own.

Megatron.

_Not_ Megatron, but _Megatron_.

"Megatron?" He whispers, clawed servos lowering in shock and voice box almost locking up as his wide optics stare into annoyed red ones.

The Maltese Tiger, in root mode, stands up from his crouch and dusts his black-stripped gray plating and fur almost casually, though rounded ears and sharp ruby lenses never leave the Peregrine Falcon as his lip-plating pulls back to show sharpened white teeth in a not-quite snarl that could _almost_ be confused with a smirk or, Primus-forbid, a _smile_.

"Who else, you useless bird?"

"_Carrier_!"

"Ramjet!"

"Thrust, Di—_ompf_!"

He turns at the sound, optics immediately identifying the two Coneheads practically compressing the Crested Eagle into a recycled cube as his Trine, as well as the Cassettes smothering Rumble and Ravage and the larger mech engulfing them all into a tight yet soft hug as their siblings and Soundwave, but his processor takes longer to actually compute that information.

When it does, his knee joints decide to desert him and leave him unceremoniously sitting in the dusty ground of the reddish plains surrounding them.

"We're back?" Someone—he's not really sure it's himself—whispers, but he's too busy analyzing his servos—_unmodified_ servos, untouched by quantum surges and unknown and unsettling maybe-Predacon-related proceedings—to actually recognize his undistorted voice—and it _was_ like that before, not that crazy modulated static thing, how could he ever think otherwise?

"Screamer? Can I hug you without you ripping an arm off my frame? Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Another voice—_it can't be_...—pleads, and, still in shock, the Peregrine Falcon turns towards it.

A black Gyrfalcon and a dark Golden Eagle, both in root mode.

"Skywarp? Thundercracker?"

And his youngest Trinemate needs no more to give a blinding smile and practically teleport on top of his leader, sending them both to the ground with a yelp and more dust flying everywhere, Thundercracker plopping on them both an instant later.

"Took you long enough, Star!"

"Screamer! Screamer, you're back! You're back, you're back, you're—_ack!_ Chocking! Chocking chocking _chocking_—!"

"Oh, shut up and take your hug."

And Skywarp replaces his exaggerated grimace by a wide smile easily mirrored by Thundercracker, and Starscream relaxes—meagerly—his tight grip on his brothers.

They're back.

They're finally home.

* * *

**AN:** _Ta-da!_

I know, I know, lots of loose ends... but whoever said this was over? ;)


	27. Look to the Past

They're not exactly allowed in the _Ark,_ but it is not like entrance is forbidden, either.

In the end, as long as things remain untouched, they have a certain leeway.

Most are still respectful enough to leave the ancient ship be, nevertheless.

Dinobot is not one of them.

And, judging by the sight of his target standing in the middle of the bridge, neither is Rattrap.

The carpet of dust that had accumulated since the crash was blown away by the time storm, but Rhinox is pretty confident it won't affect the future if there is less dirt when the Autobots and Decepticons wake up—they won't know some is missing, after all, until they learn some more about Earth, and, by then, they will all have long since disregarded the state of the ship's cleanliness upon their awakening—and so the Predacon's pede-steps aren't silenced.

Not that it matters, because the Maximal is too busy with whatever he is doing to aknowledge him.

The Rodent has a servo up in front of his faceplate, as if shielding his optics from a bright light, and thus covering part of his visual field, removing it every now and then to check the whole picture with a frown.

Dinobot stares at the large stasis-locked mech leaning against the wall, white and red and blue and black color scheme easily recognizable, and turns a curious—and slightly amused, though no one will say that to his faceplate—look down to his smaller comrade as soon as he's by his side.

"Find something?" He asks when, at last, the Maximal lowers his servo for good with a huff.

"Yeah. That is totally _not_ our Starscream." Dinobot snorts, shaking his helm with an exasperated smirk, and the Rat turns to him with a deadpanned look. "I mean, completely unrelated! Yeah, the faceplate has _a bit_ of a ressemblance, but the frame? Nuh-huh. Just try it yourself. Cover his faceplate with your servo and try to imagine our Starscream's helm on that frame."

Against his better judgement, the Predacon does so, even though he's already retorting.

"That would be because our Starscream's frame was modified to fit his Peregrine Falcon's beast mode, Vermin. There is no need for an advanced processor to realize that. You only need a _functioning_ one."

"You have to take those changes into account, _obviously—and_ it still doesn't fit! The guy kind of reminds me more of Rampage than Screecher."

The Raptor hums under his breath, paying the Rat only a sliver of his attention, as he indeed analyzes the frame, comparing it to Terrorsaur's Cybertronian one—he's the only Seeker he had the dubious pleasure to spend enough time around to recognize enough details of the frame—and, as observed, things don't quite match up.

Yet again...

"You are aware Maximals and Predacons aren't built with the same specifications Autobots and Decepticons did, are you? Our species has evolved since then, and not only with smaller frames due to lack of resources." He points out, lowering his servo when, no matter what, he can't match their Starscream's helm with this one's frame—though he has recognized some things, both as Rampage's and the Falcon's, in _both_ frames.

"I still say we've been had. The Maximal High Council may had tried to replicate the Con's immortal spark, but they certainly didn't take more than the _idea_ from him. And _maybe_ the faceplate, for aesthetic's sake, or whatever." The Rat explains with a nonchalant wave of a servo, and, had he been human, Dinobot would have rolled his eyes.

As he is not, he squashes the sudden urge to sigh and merely crosses his arms against his chest while giving his companion a pointed look.

"Right, theorizing time is over. _Why_ are you here?"

One look is all it takes for Rattrap to know how serious he's being, so the Maximal slumps with a sigh instead of putting up a front or trying for misdirection, turning to another of the large stasis-locked frames.

There are two close by, identical except for the colors and smaller than the others strewn around, and, against conscious thought, the Raptor's optics seek a third one, hidden behind a fallen Autobot from sight.

Soundwave's Cassettes. Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy and Laserbeak, the rest hidden, until their awakening in 1986, in their carrier's chest compartment.

The namesakes, and creator, of two other missing friends.

They had kept trying to unlock the door, even though Rhinox had looked like he wanted to _shoot_ the controls instead of fiddle with them, assuaged only by the knowledge they already had some people inside that could put a stop to Megatron's plans, while Cheetor analyzed the vent entrance expectantly after Optimus had decreed it would take them far too long to traverse the tunnels and find their way in—no one had questioned the tiny Predacons' knowledge of such at the time, but, later, they had all agreed that Laserbeak would have had more than enough stories to tell his children, and Starscream could have used his thought-reading-slash-sensor ability to navigate the vents—when the time storm started.

The Maximals had fallen down in pain, and, despite knowing he had no Autobot ancestry, even Dinobot had been disabled by the anomaly, feeling the world and his companions vanish around him... or being the one to disappear, instead.

He has his suspicions about that—

_A whine of charging weapons, and he's face to face with Rampage's cannon._

_The only thing to cross his processor is that the mech is larger up close than from afar, and_ that,_ especially for the largest 'Maximal' before the quantum surge, is saying something._

_Oh, and he's bulkier too._

_But the cannon turns up, the shot going wild, as Protoform X straightens and turns to the dark sky—and something slams into the gargantuan mech, sending it rolling to the ground, with a deafening clang and an explosion of air._

—But he'd rather not think of _what_ would have happened if Starscream hadn't arrived in time—hadn't _been there_—when he foolishly decided to go all out against the whole of the Predacon ranks.

The door had somehow opened—or was stuck in a time when it hadn't closed, it was hard to tell then and it's even harder now—and Megatron was there, gloating.

Fortunately, Blackarachnia's survival instinct was stronger than her loyalty, and so they managed not only to oust Megatron from the _Ark,_ but also to save Prime's life.

Unfortunately, it came at a cost.

Optimus still has trouble managing his new frame, though not as much as the first weeks, and they have yet to grow accustomed to having an active volcano as the new base rather than the sunken and destroyed _Axalon,_ but those are minor inconveniencies—or not at all, as Cheetor jokingly explains at times, because the volcano is far warmer than their ship was.

No, even worse than the changes of frames and the new Predacon in their midst and the loss of their base... Worst than all of that is the comrades that went into the _Ark,_ and vanished.

He wasn't all there, but Dinobot still remembers Megatron's tauntings.

_"And you thought your_ pets_ able to stop me? Hah! They were swept away as easily as the dust they turned into!"_

No one can be really sure if he was speaking the truth, but they have yet to find proof of the contrary.

Starscream, Ramjet, Ravage and Rumble are gone.

_"And come back in one piece!"_

Rattrap had given him a funny look as he shouted that at the forms vanishing in the vents, but Dinobot hadn't deigned respond.

Starscream hadn't been acting like himself, and, after knowing of Megatron's plans for him... He couldn't help but fear for them all, no matter how capable they were of standing their own against the Predacon leader.

His fears had been proven correct, if maybe not for the expected reasons.

::Come on, you stupid machine!::

The Raptor tenses, tail lashing in agitation and barely muting a threatening hiss at the sudden sound, claws and fangs bared as sharp eyes scan the room and its many shadows, just as Rattrap is doing by his side, gun in his servos, as they silently move to stand back to back.

::Careful with that!::

As one, the two mechs turn to the main screen, the speakers of which are the source of the static-ladden voices.

::And you call yourself a genius?::

The interference is slowly clearing as the screen flickers and lights up, only snow in it—

::Wait, look!::

—that vanishes to leave the image of a dark room with four strange yet very recognizable mechs in front of whatever camera they are using.

"Rookies!" Rattrap exclaims, a smile so wide that almost splits his helm in two on his faceplate, putting the gun away as Dinobot straightens, torn between gaping or beaming up at the now scowling quartet of small Predacons-slash-Decepticons in the frames they bore after the quantum surge, yet slightly modified.

::We're not rookies!:: Rumble protests with a snarl, but almost immediately sheds the expression in favor of a wide grin. ::Still having trouble with that rusty processor, Cheese Lover?::

"Not anymore than you do with yours, Furry Worm!" The Rodent laughs, arms wide open as if readying to hug them all, if they were actually there.

::Temporal mishap?:: Ravage asks, optics roaming over the Predacon's frame as he finally chuckles, relieved beyond belief, and the Raptor looks down at his electric blue chest and shoulder guards, and pale and dark golden body, complete with blade-tipped tail and oversized curved claws on his index dactyls.

He shrugs with a smirk, making sure to display as much of his new Transmetal frame as possible without it looking as if he is doing so.

"It was bound to happen."

Rattrap snorts while the other Predacons chuckle, and pokes at his side with a too-sharp grin.

"Yeah, now he can go toe to toe with _another_ clone of his. You had an affair with Mega-creep you're not telling us about?"

He swings with a snarl, but the Maximal is too quick to be caught by his backhanded slap—but not by his sweeping tail, which leaves the Rat flat on his back, while those on the other side of the screen guffaw loudly.

"Ah, my apologies. I'm still having trouble controlling that." Dinobot explains when Rattrap turns a murderous glare up at him, making sure to sweeten his voice to the point of sickness.

"You know, that hasn't worked since the first _dozen times_, Chopperface."

"And your attempt at a joke hasn't been funny since long before that."

"That's 'cause you don't have a sense of humor!"

"Oh, I'll show you—"

_::Ahem.::_

Like newsparks caught with their servos in the rust-sticks' jar, both Transmetals look up at the unimpressed Starscream on the screen, with Ravage and Rumble, sitting on the table, covering their mouths to muffle their laughter, while Ramjet is not even trying.

::Now, would you mind calling the rest? I'm not sure how long I can keep the machine powered up and functioning, and this call was to say our goodbyes, after all.::

Rattrap and Dinobot exchange a look, and know that the others' spark has also been squeezed painfully at the words.

The Maximal nods and brings a servo to the side of his helm, contacting the _Axalon's_ computers that they managed to salvage for their new command center, while the Predacon turns once more to the screen.

There is nothing recognizable in the bare dark room they are in, but if they've managed to contact them, and are going to say their farewells...

He opens his mouth to ask, but Ravage beats him to it.

::You have another clone? Like the one that couldn't transform whose skin was adorning your quarters?::

"Not... Not really. This one was made from a blank protoform, so it _can_ transform. It is also a Transmetal, and looks a lot like me." He answers without further thought, and feels the Maximal move back to their conversation once more, call finished.

"Only, he has a big, bulgy laser eye, and is red and silver instead of gold and blue. Plus, Dino-butt has his Bestial variant besides his beast mode, and Dino-two only has his robot and beast modes."

Paw-steps accompanied by the drone of a rocket cut any further conversation, as everyone's attention goes to the door and Cheetor, in his kind-of-patchy new Transmetal 2 beast mode, rushing through it, followed by the others, wearing various expressions from curious to wary, though they all turn to startled and happy when they spot the now flabbergasted mechs onscreen.

"Guys! You're alive!" The youngest of the crew exclaims, changing to robot mode.

::Cheetor? Mech, you're more leopard than cheetah now! What happened?:: Rumble questions, lower jaw hanging wide open, while his brother eyes Primal with much the same expression.

::Optimus...? What the...?::

::Is that _Blackarachnia?::_ Ramjet whispers, almost as if to himself, while Starscream tilts his helm as he observes the curious Depth Charge.

::Who is that supposed to be?::

"I am glad to see you are all fine." Optimus speaks up, silencing all questions, as he smiles at the mechs onscreen. "We all thought the worse when we could find no trace of you after we got the time storm difused."

::Which brought about_ a lot_ of temporal mishaps.:: The Weasel cuts, once more analyzing them all.

"Not really." Rattrap answers with a shrug, before gesturing to Cheetor. "That was one of the Preds' weapons backfiring." Another dactyl pointing at the also Transmetal Blackarachnia. "That was her deciding we wouldn't deactivate her like Megs almost did when he tried to kill Prime, and using said backfiring weapon on herself to get a fancy new frame." And, at last, another gesture towards Depth Charge. "And he's a new player that came to hunt Rampage down."

::And Optimus?::

"He put Prime's spark in his own frame while we repaired him."

Starscream literally facepalms, startling the other three, before, after exchanging a look, they start laughing.

::Crazy Maximals!::

::Wish I had been there, that sounds like fun!::

::I'm surrounded by children.:: The Falcon sighs once the others have settled down, sounding tired, but he's still as alert as always when he looks at the Maximals again. ::You got here awfully fast.::

"The _Axalon_ was destroyed, and we had to relocate. We decided a base inside the volcano would help keep the _Ark_ safe in case Megatron chose to try to finish the job once more." Rhinox explains, and the four onscreen exchange grimaces.

::Well, at least you're all fine.:: Ravage sums up with a tiny nod, and, finally remembering what he had been trying to ask, Dinobot takes a step forward.

"By the way, where are you?"

::Home!:: Rumble answers with a large smile, and more than one jaw hits the floor.

"You're on _Cybertron?"_ Many voices question in unison, but Starscream's lifted servos silence the conmotion.

::We think that the time storm ricocheted us back to our time when it kicked us out of yours. However, we're not on Cybertron. We're in the _Victory.::_

And Dinobot chockes on his next breath.

"What's a 'victory'?" Silverbolt questions warily while Rattrap pats the Predacon's back, and someone snorts.

::Didn't the Autobots teach you anything?::

"Wait... The _Victory?!"_ Blackarachnia repeats, voice shrill in realization, and Optimus sucks in a startled gasp even as Dinobot recovers.

"The Decepticon ship?" The Maximal leader adds, and the mechs onscreen nod in answer.

"You're the _original_ Decepticons?!"

And chaos ensues, with everyone talking in unison, yelling questions or speaking to one another.

_::Enough!::_

Ramjet's bellow quietens everyone, but, judging by the grimaces and the rubbing of audials of the other three with him, also manages to give his companions a headache.

One glare from Starscream is enough to have the Crested Eagle gulping and hunching into himself meekly.

"Wait a nanoklik there! You mean you're actually—" Rattrap cuts, gesturing jerkily to where the large Decepticon Second in Command is frozen in stasis, and the Falcon scowls.

::Of course not! I may be the original Starscream _in our dimension_, but I am not _that_ Starscream!::

::Yep, we can support that.:: Rumble adds chirpily with a serene smile that immediately turns deadly sharp. ::I doubt _that_ Starscream would have hugged Megatron.::

The Falcon immediately pounces on the Weasel, shrieking orders to shut up as he practically buries him under his servos, while the Maximals freeze in place.

"Did he say..." Silverbolt starts, optics incredibly wide, but never finishes the question, turning to stare at his fellow Maximals.

::You should've seen it!:: Ramjet cackles, avoiding Starscream's attempts at clawing him with his pedes thanks to Rumble writhing in the Falcon's grip, distracting him from his aim. ::I thought Lord Megatron was going to crash!::

Lord Megatron.

The _Decepticon,_ not the Predacon.

Which means the most treacherous mech this side of the galaxy—well, his equivalent—actually...

Rattrap is the first to start laughing, but he's not the only one.

::Oh, shut up!:: Ravage orders, arms crossed against his chest plates, and startled at his loud voice, they obey. ::It was such a momentuous scene, to see and hear Starscream swear an oath of fealty with such fervor and honesty—::

::Alright, _alright!::_ The Decepticon Air Commander interrupts as they break down laughing again. ::Yes, I up and told him everything I thought I didn't need to, so he wouldn't end like _your_ idiot. Satisfied?::

::Just seeing his face was enough, Screecher.:: Rumble answers, finally free after Starscream crosses his arms against his chest plates.

::Besides, you made it pretty clear you hadn't been reprogrammed or anything.:: Ramjet adds with a smirk, before straightening self-importantly. ::I won't deactivate you, but I swear, if you pull up another sky spy thing, I'm putting you in stasis for the next four million years!:: He adds in his best attempt at imitating the Air Commander's high-pitched voice.

::Which, by the way, you still need to explain. Even Soundwave looked lost at that reference!:: Ravage pouts, and the Seeker's next scowl has quite a lot of a wince in it.

::Nothing important. Really.::

::Yeah, right.::

"Wait!" Dinobot cuts once more, pieces clicking all over his processor again. "If you're the original Decepticons, then Soundwave—"

::Is our Carrier!:: The brothers finish in unison with bright and wide grins, and the Raptor feels as if his equilibrium gyros are being shaked by a toddler.

"Oh. Holy Primus."

"How did he take your calling Starscream 'creator'?" Primal asks, genuinely curious, and the Cassettes and Conehead fall all over themselves in laughter while the Seeker almost shakes himself out of his armor in a clearly terrified shudder.

::It wasn't funny! I thought he was going to rip my spark out of its chamber!:: The Air Commander shrieks at a painful pitch, but the other Decepticons merely grow louder in their mirth.

But Dinobot can't hear it anymore.

_Another cut, another gurgling scream, and clawed servos dig through plating, but the Tyrannosaurus doesn't even seem to notice as he rips something off—_

_And blue light bathes his faceplate._

Spark_ light._

_"You are all mine,_ yes."_ With those whispered words, he reaches for the subspace pocket at his back, and takes a tiny purple box out, a_ familiar—

_He's going to rip Starscream's spark _out of his frame_._

_..._

_Black and skeletal and optics white as if lense-less, looking—_and acting_—more like a crab than a gull, and he can't help the sudden urge to_ runrunrun_ as lightning steals the heat, the energy, the_ life,_ of all around them—_

"Did he?"

Dinobot's quiet voice cuts through the raucous laughter like a hot blade through jellified Energon, all optics suddenly on him, but he can only see a pair of confused red ones.

"In the other Ravage's ship. Did Megatron..."

And realization flickers for an instant before Starscream closes off, going so far as to take a step away from the screen, to everyone else's confusion.

::It doesn't matter.::

"Starscream—"

::It _doesn't matter_!:: The Seeker roars, bristling threateningly enough that the Predacon fears for a moment despite they being a universe apart. ::The time storm fixed everything, so _it doesn't matter_!::

::What are you guys talking about?:: Rumble questions, looking from one to the other, while Ravage meets the Raptor's apprehensive optics with growing dread and realization.

::You mean, he actually did it?:: The cat asks—_pleads_—with terrified wide optics, and Starscream flinches back.

_::NO!::_ And, after a nanoklik, a grimace. ::Well...::

Dinobot's lower jaw hits the floor when he realizes what is going on.

"How can you not know if someone ripped off half of your spark?!"

**::What.::**

The world freezes.

It hasn't been a shout, or a word strange enough to garner all their attention, but the voice is unknown, and undeniably powerful.

The Decepticons turn as one to the source, out of the screen, and seem to grow smaller as the sound of pede-steps becomes louder.

::W-Wait, we have a deal!:: The Falcon protests, servos up, and a growl answers the gesture.

::The _deal_ was to let you say your goodbyes unbothered, and you will get to do that. _After_ I get some answers.::

The mech suddenly onscreen needs no introductions.

Tall when compared to the Decepticon Fliers, more imposing and clearly stronger, with gunmetal gray fur and armor stripped by black markings.

Red optics land on the Maximals—and Predacon—and more than one gulps, tenses, or steps back.

"Megatron." Optimus whispers, unmoving but with optics wide, and the Decepticon leader's attention moves to him as he finishes analyzing them all.

He looks _unimpressed._

::You must be Optimus Primal. I have to admit your ressemblance with Prime is uncanny. Yet again, given what I have been told, you seem to be not as much of a fool as _he_ is.:: The warlord answers calmly, flashing a sharp-toothed snarl at the stasis-locked Autobot leader at their back at the reference. ::Now, what is this about a spark being ripped in half?::

Starscream flinches, but immediately straightens and approaches the larger mech with a scowl.

::Would you drop it? I said _it doesn't matter_!::

::And _I_ say it does.:: Megatron answers with a snarl, before turning to the screen. ::Now, answer.::

::Don't you dare!::

"You mean you haven't told about...?" Rattrap questions, more flabbergasted than deterred by the Seeker's scowl, gesturing over his shoulder to where the large Starscream is resting.

::Of course not! I am not _him!::_

"Have you tested it?"

The Falcon's anwering smile has nothing of humor and a lot of murderous intent in it as he leans back almost casually, voice terrifyingly sweet.

::Yes, of course. I shot myself in the spark to see if I'm immortal.:: And all pretenses are shed to leave a bristling and snarling mech behind. ::What do you think?::

Silence.

A moment later, Starscream seems to realize just _what_ he has said as his expression goes blank—and buries his faceplate behind his servos as he slaps his forehead.

::Stop. Thinking. Out. Loud!::

Megatron shakes himself out of his stupor then, and turns to the rest of his Decepticons with a not-completely-hidden startled look.

::Immortal?::

::Apparently, that guy is.:: Rumble answers sheepishly, pointing at the stasis-locked Seeker through the screen. ::The Maximal High Council managed to make a kind-of immortal mech based on him that Mega-dolt keeps controlled by having half of his spark literally at hand all the time.::

::And he did the same to _him?::_ The Decepticon leader questions, pointing at Starscream, who straightens with a hiss.

_::No!::_

::Liar.::

All Decepticons turn to the same corner Megatron came from at the new voice, the Air Commander's snarl darkening.

::Don't you dare call me a liar, Soundwave! You weren't there!::

The mech is lithe but solidly built at the same time, frame covered by reddish fur with cream patches and grayish armor, two pointy canine ears at the sides of his helm, and his faceplate consisting of a red visor and a mask that seems made from wolf teeth.

And Starscream called him Soundwave.

Ravage and Rumble's carrier.

_How could I ever think he was a Maximal?_

And that's not fair to the Maximals, but comparing a _Decepticon_ with _anyone_ is more than unfair for the other mech.

They saw more than enough when the ghost Starscream possessed Waspinator.

::Starscream: Uneasy. Conclusion: Liar.::

The Seeker bristles, going so far as actually growling—before deflating with a sigh, a servo once more covering his faceplate and darkened optics.

::I don't know. I was in stasis. Happy?::

Megatron and Soundwave exchange an unreadable look, while the rest look clearly disturbed or sickened.

::You said whatever sent you back undid what happened in that other dimension.:: The Decepticon leader speaks up after a moment, and the Seeker tentatively looks up between his dactyls with a small nod. ::Is that why you insist that the issue doesn't matter?::

::Yes, I—:: The Air Commander starts, finally looking up, before turning away with a grimace. ::At least I can be sure my spark's intact _now.::_

::Good.:: Megatron answers, calm and strong and regal—before flicking a clawed finger at Starscream's forehead, something that sends the Seeker to the floor with a yelp after he trips with his own pedes in his surprise. ::Stop thinking out loud. It's annoying.:: A tirade of insults spews out of the fallen mech as his companions—except Soundwave—start to laugh, but the warlord ignores it all as he turns to the screen. ::Good job keeping an optic on them.::

Dinobot exchanges an incredulous look with Rattrap, as the other Maximals do among themselves, because that can't be what they think it is, right?

"You're welcome." Optimus answers calmly with a knowing smile, and, when Megatron just nods back, they realize that _yes,_ it _was_ what they thought.

The image starts to gray at the corners, flickers of static crossing it more and more numerous, and all their surprise is washed away by loss.

::Well, looks like this is it.:: Ravage whispers almost sadly, but with a warm small smile on his faceplate.

::Thanks for everything, and, huh, sorry about the cabling mess.:: Ramjet adds, looking sheepish, and Rhinox snorts before shaking his helm with a smile, something that seems to cheer the Conehead up.

::Remember to offline your audials when you go past Fido and Legs' room.:: Rumble comments _casually,_ making Silverbolt sputter and Blackarachnia cackle, while Cheetor stews in envy and the rest laugh. ::And get Rattrap and Dinobot a room!::

_"Hey!"_

::Don't get yourselves deactivated.:: Starscream's voice is starting to break alongside the image, but the words are still understandable.

"You take care of yourselves!"

"Try not to get in _too much_ trouble!"

"Get Rumble a muzzle!"

"Put a bell on Ravage!"

And so on, until the screen is practically black again—

::_Thank you._::

The hissing of static stops, only the reflection of the overhead emergency lights on the screen.

Finally, the weight has been lifted from their shoulders.

They won't see their comrades again, but they know they will be fine.

"They're going to get in trouble again."

"You know they will."

And it's back to business once more.

* * *

**AN:** Hello, everyone! Sorry for the late update, I've been busier than ever these last couple of weeks. Adding that I didn't know how to start writing, and some days being sick... But, hey, my motto isn't 'better late than never' for anything XD

So, a glimpse at things now that everyone's in place, and all the dirty secrets are finally revealed! That means it's _back to business once more_ ;)

One more chapter left, and though it's already started, I'm not going to put any dates on it, just in case...


	28. Head Towards the Future

Rattletrap follows in silence, but it's a close thing.

It was awkward enough when they were in the transport, and borderline uncomfortable in the elevator ride, but this?

_Who uses _stairs _anyway?_

_... Us, apparently._

The Minibot looks at his companions as surreptitiously as he's capable of—which is _a lot_, thank you very much, he knows how to do his job—to see if he's able to figure something out _this time_.

First of all, there's yours truly, Rattletrap. Former miner and, more recently, former foreman of a demolitions team. Currently living from betting pools and minor maintenance jobs here and there.

That's what the public knows.

Actually, he's working with the Enforcers as an inside agent to dismantle a series of illegal fighting rings with a side of drug dealing.

It's going slow, but they're doing good, and Rattletrap hasn't felt better _in his function_.

So, he kind of understands being picked up by a Guardian.

The mech himself is slightly smaller and definitely lighter than the Minibot, though with a heavy upper body, strong arms, and a medium-short tail, but the most striking feature is the coat of short grayish-brown fur covering part of his armor, an easily and immediately identified sign of a survivor of the Great War.

That, alongside the band around his forearm bearing the brand of the Guardians, a stilyzed red dog's head, is all anyone needs to confirm this.

As if anyone still had any doubts, the mechs turns without hesitation, red visor easily meeting his optics with a knowing smirk that is all sharp teeth, and Rattletrap immediately turns away, systems heating up in embarrassment at being caught staring.

It doesn't help that the third member of their party has obviously seen that too, as evidenced by his snickering, so the Minibot glares up at him.

The mech is big, sturdy and heavily-armored, a clear Tread Roller frame type and even clearer warrior, the accents of electric blue amidst dark bronze only highlighting it.

The long tail ended with spiral-like ridges that seems to cut the very light reflecting off of them is almost overkill, but it's more than a little informative to those who know what they see.

Barring the pre-War Nobility still stubbornly clinging to a past long gone, all of the Cybertronian populace has an animal-derived alt mode, but there are ways to distinguish the true Bestials.

Like the mech the Guardian had picked up before him.

He has no idea about his name or his reason for being with them, because there's no way someone that visible is a spy, but he does know the larger mech is part of the Defense Force thanks to the golden brand on the black band around his upper arm bearing the stylized head of a bee—which is why the Army's commonly known as the Hive.

When the warrior returns his glare with a look that dares him to say something, the Minibot decides to bite.

"Rattletrap." He lets out with a thumb pointing at his chest plates, and, after a moment to shake off the surprise at the introduction—the spy is cackling inside—the Tread Roller answers in kind.

"Blades."

"Seriously?"

"It's a _nickname_."

"Right, whatever you say."

And they finally arrive at their destination.

The door opens silently, the change in lighting leaving them disoriented for a moment as they step outside—and almost get blown away by a sudden bout of incredibly harsh wind.

The Minibot clings to the Bestial with a squeak, praying his heavier frame will keep them grounded, while the Guardian cackles loudly.

"What the _frag_?! Give a mech a warning!"

"Rumble..." Another voice chastises over the whistling wind and yet more laughter, as, with some difficulty, the soldier pries the spy off his waist.

"I had to! Come on, Rav, tell me you didn't!"

"... Nah, I did it too."

"Get. _Off_." The Tread Roller hisses as he finally gets the former demolitions foreman away, scowling and uncaring about the fact that, if the smaller mech had fur, it would be standing on edge.

"Rattletrap? What are you doing here?"

A blink, and, forgetting all about the recent near death experience, the Minibot turns—and does a doubletake.

There are a lot of mechs around that he has never seen before, but there is one he _does_ know.

"Dynamo? Hey, Big Green! What are you doing here?"

"I did just ask you that." The silver and green Cargo engineer points out with a raised optical ridge, and the Minibot waves a dismissing servo.

"He's here for the same reason we're all here, and none of us knows why we're here because none of these so-called Guardians have told us anything!" A purple and green Miner screeches, earning the exhasperated grimaces or sighs from almost everyone else.

"Ugh, can't you say anything else?" A gorgeously dangerous purplish-red and black Femme scoffs, sharp dactyls resting on a narrow waist, and Rattletrap observes with amusement how the blue and silver winged Enforcer next to her snarls silently at the Miner over her helm like a jealous dog, his workstation recognized by the red feline head on his band.

"Yes! Besides, just because Lieutenant Ramjet is an active member of the Air Force, it doesn't mean he's not a Guardian." A red Seeker crows pompously, while the green Rotor by his side nods enthusiastically.

"Yes, yes, he said no Guardian can be Guardian all the time."

It's easy to identify this Lieutenant thanks to the off-white feathers on the largest Flier's armor, but seeing him cover his faceplate with a tired sigh is as good an introduction as any.

"Wasp, Terry, I told you before to drop it."

"Your name is _Terry_?" A teal and yellow spiky-armored Road Runner questions while barely keeping his laughter at bay, and the red mech bristles.

"Of course not! But no matter how many times I tell him, he doesn't listen!"

"I'm your superior officer, I will do as I fragging please." Ramjet returns with a smug grin, looking down at the silently stewing Seeker.

"Wasp likes Wasp's new nickname." The Rotor answers happily, practically aglow, and the mech next to him, a large silver Tread Roller with red accents, also with rotary blades on his back, snorts.

"Just so you don't get any ideas, I go by Inferno."

"Pleasure to meet you, big guy." The Seeker by his other side chuckles, the aesthetic mods on the golden frame identifying the new mech as female. "I'm Airrazor, pilot of the fast delivery spaceship _Chromia 10_. How abou you, officer?" She asks the second Enforcer, this one a white Road Runner with turquoise-green detailing.

"Wait, you're a messenger?" A young yellow Chaser with purplish-blue detailing and spots on his chassis cuts, glancing between Rattletrap's Guardian, the Air Force Lieutenant, and two others bearing the Red Dog, one a black-furred Bestial the size of a Minibot, and the other a big—though not Dynamo-big—sturdy yet lithe visored and masked... well, _Red Dog_.

The spy's processor stalls for a moment, trying to make sense of the last mech.

Is he the _original_, the leader of all Guardians?

If so, what has he—what has _Dynamo—_gotten into?

"We're still waiting for some people." The black feline answers to the unvoiced question, and a deep blue Builder fidgets before finally exploding.

"But why are _we_ here? I understand some Enforcers and the Hive, but I'm just a construction bot!"

"I'm a scientist!" The Miner huffs, insulted, the Femme nodding in agreement.

"And I'm a biologist. Don't mix me with your ilk."

"I'm an engineer." Dynamo adds, a pattern forming—

A snort.

"Well, I'm an Emergency Agent. Explain that." Inferno cuts, crossing his arms to proudly display the tri-dactyl paw insignia on the band around his arm, which distinguishes him as a firefighter, and search and rescue, and evacuations, and any other help he could provide in an emergency situation.

"No, explain Wasp! Wasp is transportist." The Rotor pipes up, and the Chaser nods in agreement.

"Exactly! I was a messenger too, but now I'm in an explorer course. What are _we_ doing here?!"

And he turns to Rattletrap, like everyone else.

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm a tinkerer." He answers with a shrug and a sleazy grin, and Dynamo shakes his helm softly.

"You're the best demolitions expert I've ever met." The engineer adds, but the Minibot just shrugs again.

"And you're not a half bad spy for how short a time you've been active."

Rattletrap is sure he gets whiplash, so quickly he turns to the Guardian that led him here, but the mech looks completely at ease while the rest do a doubletake.

"Hah! Me, a spy? Real fun—"

"Don't try to deny it or I'm starting on mission reports."

And the Minibot can only think _oh, slag_.

"You're... a spy." Dynamo repeats, slowly, and Rattletrap buries his faceplate in his servos.

"What the Pit happened to _secrecy_?"

"It jumped a generation."

"Hey."

"I mean, they were going to know sooner or later, right?" The brownish Guardian answers sheepishly while the black-furred one gives him a blank look. "Come on, Rav, quit giving me the _you're an idiot 'cause I'm your older brother and say so_ look."

"Actually, it's the _I'm an awesome spy and don't you dare doubt it ever again_ look. But, yes, you're an idiot 'cause I say so." The second Guardian returns with a lazy smirk, and the first 'tsk's.

"Slag, almost nailed it."

"I was going to ask if they're really brothers, but I think I don't need to anymore." Rattletrap whispers, and the warrior by his side snorts.

"This is surreal. I have work to do..." The Miner bemoans, burying his faceplate behind his servos as his whole frame slumps in defeat, and the rest exchange tired looks.

"You know, for once I agree with Mister Whiney." The yellow and teal mech speaks up, receiving a glare and a lot of nods.

"I need to be at the station in half a joor. Could we _please_ get whatever it is we're going to do over with?" The winged Enforcer asks, grimacing and tapping his dactyls on his thigh impatiently.

"And can we please do it _somewhere else_?!" Rattletrap adds when the wind picks up again, moving closer to the warrior just in case, and the larger mech crosses his arms with a tired sigh. "Where the Pit are we anyway?"

"The Watchtower!" The green Rotor exclaims happily, and everyone turns to stare at him, dumbfounded, before looking around.

There are three walls, the two that have the entrances they used, smaller than the third, which has yet another door, though this one closed. Beyond those are lights, though, lots and lots of lights, and all of them lower than they are.

The Watchtower—known as Darkmount during the Great War—is the tallest building in the city of Haephestas, harboring the Cybertronian Council offices and some other institutions—though the main offices of them are in different buildings, just in case.

A sign of the former grandeur of the old Cybertron, a memorial of the War and all that was lost and gained, a stronghold of the new world that cares for the populace in its governing, and of the world by nesting—

Nesting...

_Primus._

"Primus." The warrior whispers, breathless, and Rattletrap lets out a strangled sound that is supposed to be agreeing. "We're in the Phoenix's Nest."

The brown-furred Guardian smirks as answer, but his visor is neither on the Minibot nor the Tread Roller.

It's on the sky.

Feeling as if out of his frame, the spy follows his line of sight—and sees everyone else do the same from the corner of his optics.

And wonders why he hasn't fallen to the ground yet.

No one on the surface of Cybertron, barring the veterans of the War, have seen the Phoenix up close, because the creature is always soaring up high beyond anyone's reach as it patrols the skies and the stars to eliminate any dangers to their planet.

As it did before, when the War ended, when the Decepticons' last assault on the Autobots left them barely strong enough to return from Earth, with many lost in the fray or the trip, and, before they could recover, the Unmaker himself appeared.

Many were the damages, both material and personal, wrought by Unicron, but Decepticons and Autobots finally joined up—and failed.

That's when the Phoenix appeared.

With its aid, the two faction leaders broke into the planet-former, defeated his heralds—and extinguished his spark.

Now, Unicron's head is replacing the moon he devoured, balancing Cybertron's magnetic field and giving newsparks nightmares during the three Halloween nights, when the Unmaker's faceplate is angled to stare down at the cities with its dark optics and opened mouth reminding them of his original intentions.

And the Phoenix guards it, sometimes nesting in it and others on top of the Watchtower, and continuing to fulfill its oath to protect Cybertron as the black shadow wrapped in white lightning that is rarely visible in the nighttime.

But that's all it is.

A brief sight.

A legend.

And yet, it's coming right at them, more and more of it becoming distinguishable as it approaches, large wings not even flapping as white light dances on its midnight-black plating.

It's big, bird-like, yet also skeletal in a way no Cybertronian could ever be, moving on the harsh winds as if they were the softest of breezes—

Even the warrior curses out loud when it flaps its wings on top of them, bracing himself as Rattletrap clings to him for dear life, and, when the gale stops and they can look up, there's a bundle of shifting darkness and vanishing flecks of light in the middle of the rough circle they were forming.

Blades and whips and almost non-existant armor—

And the most terrifying creature the Minibot has ever seen finally rises.

Taller than Dynamo almost by twice his height but barely as wide as him at the shoulders—and not even a third at its narrowest, which would be the abdominal area that has nothing but the back strut in it—and angular yet streamlined to the point of being so fluid it cuts at a mere glance.

Cover all that in the blackest armor ever, with white optics that seem to swallow your very spark whole if you make the mistake of staring into them for too long, and a side of long sharp talons in both servos and pedes, long whips waving at its back as they crackle with white lightning, and elongated and flat blades on its back so sharp that they're almost invisible when seen from the front, and one begins to wonder why people don't fear it more than Unicron's deactivated helm.

"Warn a mech before such an entrance, Screecher!" The brown-furred Guardian exclaims, his voice too loud in the awed and fearful silence—

It is so fast they see nothing, but the _crack_ and the smaller mech's yelp and jump—which also makes all the others, except the remaining Guardians, almost fly out of their armor—help identify what happened, especially when put together with one of the whips moving back to a position none had noticed it had left.

"That stings..." The brown-furred mech whines pitifully, rubbing a line of gray now marring his upper-arm plating.

The Phoenix spits a threatening hiss of static back—or snorts, judging by how short the sound is, and the helm tilting up haughtily—before crossing spindly black arms against wide chest plates, as the whips wrap around its non-existant abdomen to give the illusion of actually having it.

And then, they stare.

At the Phoenix, at the Guardians, at the Red Dog, at each other, at the city, at the stars, at the floor, at the doors, at nothing.

Until Rattletrap has enough.

"Anyone ever been at _Kinetic's_?"

This time, the spy is the target of all stares.

And a scoff.

"_Kinetic's_?" The warrior repeats with disgust. "That establishment where the serving bots...?" He doesn't finish the question, but the way he gestures to his own chest plates is more than enough to have the Minibot smirk sharply.

"Ah, here's someone that gets me! So, met Revvy yet? She's the most talented when it comes to—"

The spy doesn't get to do more than lift a servo before the larger mech covers his mouth with his own claw-tipped one, snarling most impressively, but, as he leans closer to better threaten Rattletrap, the Minibot can't feel the faintest hint of heat from embarrasement.

_Well, slag me. I think I could actually go to _Kinetic's_with someone that enjoys the cocktails instead of the view, for once._

The warrior's snarl morphs into threats of bodily harm if he doesn't _cease that meaningless blabbering—_

"_**Rattrap. Dinobot.**_"

They separate as if zapped, though the Minibot immediately hurries to hide behind the larger mech as he changes into his Bestial variant, heavy frame crouched on all fours with the spine-ladden back arced, short but strong snout baring sharp teeth in a warning hiss and segmented bladed tail whipping back and forth while whirring like a drill, and the spy's shotgun may not be as impressive, but he still takes it out and aims—

The Phoenix's white optics narrow.

"_**Enough.**_"

There it is, the same static-like voice with the almost unheard clicking of the mandibles moving as they speak, and Rattletrap's lower jaw and weapon fall to his knees as the beast by his side sits down heavily, completely silent.

And the only thing he can think of is that... that...

"That's not my name." He mumbles, before returning to the present with a reboot of his optics. "Hey! That's not my name!"

"Really?" The warrior drawls with a falsely surprised tone, and though his snout doesn't allow for much emotion, his optics glint with amusement. "I could have been fooled. It is far better suited than your actual one, _Vermin_."

_Two can play this game._

Making sure to sweeten his voice to the point of cavities—if such a thing was possible with metal-based beings—the spy presses his servos together and _swoons_.

"Aw, thank you! I also like your new nickname far more, _Dino-butt_."

"Why, you—"

A hiss distracts them once more from their bantering, only to realize it's actually a tired sigh, judging by the Phoenix's darknened optics and his helm moving slowly from side to side in defeat, the brown- and black-furred Guardians snickering.

"_Now_ it's your fault."

"_**Rumble...**_"

"What? _You_ said it!"

"Enough." All optics move to the Red Dog, and Rattrap—_Rattletrap_, slaggit, his name is _Rattletrap—_can't help but wonder what is with these people and robotic voices, and if they're finally going to be told what the _Pit_ they're doing here, because he would very much like to be back on the ground, _thank you_, and even better if it's inside some building—like, say, _Kinetic's—_to get away from these unpredictable gusts of wind—and the larger mech's red visor meets his optics. "Cocktails: Irrelevant."

Silence and confused looks are the only thing they exchange—before the spy straightens with a triumphant grin.

"Aha! I knew it! You _are_ the Red Dog!"

"_The_ Red Dog?!" Dinobot—yeah, that _is_ way better a name, makes for so many jabs, especially with the Bestial variant—repeats, frame tense and optics wide, looking between the Minibot and the reddish mech. "As in the original? The Decepticon Communications Officer?"

"Yup, that's Soundwave, alright." The brown-furred Guardian answers instead, though the newly-identified Soundwave also nods to confirm those words, and Rattletrap's smirk falls right off.

"Wait a moment. If _he_ is Soundwave, and _you_ are called Rumble, and _you_ are his brother..."

"That means we are his creations, yes. I'm Ravage, by the way." The black-furred Guardian finishes for him, nodding proudly, and the spy's not the only one left gaping.

"What the Pit are we doing here?!" The Miner scientist finally explodes, throwing his servos up.

"We would like to know that too."

Rattrap whirls around with a yelp, the Bestial by his side returning to his mech variant, and finds himself faceplate to faceplate with two large newcomers just out of the door.

Well, faceplate to chest plate, actually.

"Commander Optimal!" The kid shouts as he straightens into a kinda sloppy salute, making the gray and blue winged mech smile fondly.

"Ah, hello—"

"Optimal? You got roped into this too?" Dynamo cuts, too startled to observe propriety—and the Minibot _finally_ recognizes the designation.

"Wait a moment. Optimal? _That_ is the guy you were going to travel with?" He asks the engineer with disbelief, before turning to give the newly identified space-faring explorer a critical look. "And you wanted _me_ to be under _his_ command? ... I don't see it."

"Can't keep control over your own mechs, Optimal?" The other newcomer, a really familiar purple and copper politician whose designation is on the tip of his glossa, drawls with amusement, earning a heatless glare from the winged mech.

"Not all of us can have your charisma, Magmatron."

_Ah, yes, that's it! I knew it was something like—_

"Now, if introductions are over..."

—_Megatron..._

And yes, that is _exactly_ who the even larger mech that has just stepped out of the stairs behind the newcomers is, standing proud and firm in all his gunmetal gray-plated and black-striped glory.

Though, that is not _all_ he is.

"Lord High Protector?" Someone—the Enforcers?—questions in a strangled voice as one of the two most important mechs in Cybertron joins them in the wind-swept top of the Watchtower.

Static crackles in what Rattrap—no, no, Rattletrap, _Rattletrap_, slaggit—is slowly starting to recognize as the Phoenix's snort, attracting their attention to the amused—maybe?—black creature standing with arms crossed in the middle of the roof.

"**Lord**_**High Protector? What will be next? Your **_**Highness**_**?**_"

The two Cassettes—and they _are_ Cassettes, no matter that they're almost as big as the Minibot—explode in laughter alongside the white-feathered Seeker, snorting and trembling even after they try to control themselves the next nanoklik, and the spy feels as if he's missing something.

After an exchanged curious look and a shrug with Scale Belly—_hey, good one!_—he realizes he's not the only one, though, so he lets it go.

"Inner joke..." He whispers under his breath, but catches the Red Dog nodding in agreement from the corner of his optic.

"Real funny." Lord Megatron deadpans, walking past the smaller mechs without trouble as they move aside out of respect and awe and self-preservation—this is one of the two mechs to defeat _the slagging Unmaker_, for booting up cold. "They insist on calling me that, I never asked for it. Just like they keep referring to you as _The Phoenix_." The last part is added with a dangerously sharp grin, and the black creature immediately glares down at the brown-furred Guardian.

"It was him!" The smaller mech protests, pointing at his brother, who returns an unimpressed look.

"Really? Frenzy would have been a better excuse, you know."

"But it _was_ you!"

"Rumble: Enough protesting. Ravage: No more rumors."

"But _Carrieeeeer_..."

"Enough."

"_Awww_..."

"Are we sure they _are_ Guardians?" Rattrap whispers to Dinobot, Optimal and Magmatron, and gets three shrugs for answer, all of them staring at the spectacle with wide optics.

"Well, you _are_ supposed to be a spy, so I guess everything is possible, Garbage Breath."

"Oh, can it, Chopperface."

"Chopper-_what_?!"

"If I may have a moment of your time..." Megatron cuts calmly, but the piercing look directed at them immediately makes it clear that it's _not_ a suggestion for them to _shut up_. "Rodimus is busy with the nobles, so this is all we're going to be."

"The _Prime_ is involved with this mess?" The teal and yellow Road Runner whispers out loud, and Inferno shrugs, just as surprised as everyone else.

"Well, if he's not coming, then yeah, that's all." The brown-furred Guardian confirms, recovered from glaring at his unrepentantly smirking brother.

"Good." Lord Megatron acknowledges with a nod, before turning to the Red Dog. "Have they been told of the situation and their role?" And the smaller Decepticon shakes his head in a negative before turning to his creations, both of them standing at attention and looking like the very picture of professionalism.

"Alright, everyone listen up 'cause I'm just saying it once." Rumble calls, as if all visual arrays weren't already on him. "The watered down version is that there's a menace that needs to be neutralized, and we can't do it all on our own. Not this time."

"So you mean to recruit us?" Dinobot questions, analyzing their mismatched crew intently. "Do you intend for us to be some kind of, what, sabotaging team?"

"Exactly. Of course, we would be coming with you, and Soundwave would be our contact with Cybertron." Ravage adds, and his brother, the Air Force Lieutenant, and even _The Fragging Phoenix_, nod in answer to that claim.

And that sounds... awesome, actually.

A chance to do something big, something _great—_

"_**No one will ever know what you did. If this works and we survive, that is.**_" The Phoenix cuts, and everyone turns to it.

Obvious. Yes, it is... Obvious.

Something big enough—bad enough—to have the nightmarish creature doubting _its_ survival, when it faced down the Unmaker... If it was to be known, there would be mass panic and chaos everywhere. They need to keep it quiet.

"You don't have to accept." Rumble speaks up, still the very picture of seriousness. "We just ask that, if you wish to stay out of this, you keep what we've told you to yourselves."

_Riiiight. No pressure at all._

A snort, movement at his side—

"There is nothing to ask."

—And Dinobot is suddenly standing tall in front of Lord Megatron, somehow managing to not be dwarfed by the larger mech's presence, staring right into his piercing optics.

A tiny part of the spy's processor registers the tension of the smaller Guardians, but the majority of it is on the Tread Roller opening his mouth again—

"In peace there's nothing so becomes a mech as modest stillness and humility: but when the blast of war blows in our audials, then imitate the action of the tiger."

And all is silent for an instant, before Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, of the rebels that rose against an unbeatable enemy and succeeded against all odds, the mech aptly named High Protector and whose alt mode _is_ a tiger...

Lord Megatron frowns.

"What?"

"_Henry V_, by William Shakespeare. Basically, he will fight, regardless of personal fame and rewards, because it will be for the good of Cybertron. Just like you did." Ravage explains, standing tall and with his chest puffed out in pride, uncaring about the startled and slightly admiring look Dinobutt's disappointed pout turned into—and the first to say that wasn't a pout will find Rattrap laughing in their face.

"... Well, there could be clearer ways to say that... But there could be worse ones too." The High Protector answers at last, sending a sharp grin the Phoenix's way.

"_**Don't tempt me.**_"

"I will join too. No matter the enemy: for Cybertron, they will burn." Inferno adds, grinning threateningly as he pats a rather large gun on his lower back.

"If there's fighting, count me in!" The yellow and teal Road Runner cackles perhaps a bit too gleefully, rubbing his servos in anticipation, while the Enforcers glare at him for a moment before turning to the tiger.

"We will join too. It is our duty to protect our fellow Cybertronian." The white one speaks up, and the other nods and straightens more cockily than the situation calls for, angling so that the Femme catches the brightest side of his grin.

"And our pleasure!"

The Femme ignores him so spectacularly that the spy almost laughs out loud.

"If we asked us here, knowing about our specialities, does that mean we will have the facilities to make full use of them?" She asks, gesturing to the Miner scientist and Dynamo, and Megatron gives a serious nod back.

"As much as the situation allows for."

"Well, coming from the High Protector, and with the support of the Prime, that's good enough for me."

"I don't know... What use could _we_ be?" The whiny mech mutters, glaring at the rest skeptically, and the green and silver Cargo lets out a silent sigh before turning to him.

"You're the scientist. Use your imagination."

It takes no more than those words for the Miner to perk up with a surely certified mad-genius' cackle.

"I will join too." Dynamo adds after shaking his head, no one needing more from the smaller mech.

"So will I." Optimal agrees without doubt, and his apprentice bounces like the kid he is.

"Me too! Me too!"

"Can Wasp join too?" The Rotor asks the Air Force Lieutenant, who grins at him while clapping the startled red Seeker's shoulder plate.

" 'Course you can! And Terry will too!"

"For the last time, _don't call me that_!"

"Join, and I'll consider it."

"... Urgh, alright. But you have to stop that!"

"I'll think about it."

The she-Seeker laughs, a servo covering her lower faceplate as the red one simmers, before she too looks up at Lord Megatron with a binding nod.

"Well, if both the High Protector _and_ the Prime have chosen to pursue this initiative, then it will be most beneficial, yes. No rewards expected, of course." The politician drawls with a practiced smile and velvety voice, but, regardless of his obvious bid at gaining some points for his status with the two most powerful mechs of the planet, he still agrees to take part in this crazy endeavor.

Which leaves only Rattrap left to make his choice.

Letting his helm fall back as his whole frame slumps, the Minibot lets out a groan, uncaring about the visual arrays now on him.

"We're all gonna die."

Snorts—Dynamo being the best known one, though the Phoenix's static-crackle is the most recognizable—are the only answer to that, but no one calls him out on not making as official an announcement as the rest.

Not surprising. After all, every single one of them must be equally crazy to agree to such a vague and _suicidal_ task.

But agree they do nevertheless.

"Very well. Now that we've taken that out of the way..." Lord Megatron speaks up, attracting their attention once more as he turns to the Phoenix. "What is the status, Starscream?"

Someone squeaks, and, for once, it isn't Rattrap, but the red Seeker.

Doesn't mean anyone's been able to hang onto their jaws, though.

"Starscream?!" The politician squawks, rebooting his processor before the rest. "The war hero?!"

"But he's deactivated!" Optimal adds, gesturing a bit as he tries to piece things together. "He deactivated to protect Lord Megatron—to protect _you—_from Unicron! Everyone knows that."

"Unless he _didn't_ really deactivate. It was all a ploy!" The kid lets out excitedly, almost bouncing in place.

"Then why say he deactivated?" The Rotor questions, looking extremely confused, and the golden she-Seeker shrugs.

"To cover up he's still active? A secret agent kind of thing?"

"Suggestions: Erroneous." Soundwave cuts before speculation starts to go wild, attracting all optics as he moves to the High Protector's side. "Starscream: Deactivated."

"Indeed he did." Megatron agrees, optics lost in long-gone memories, before rebooting them to focus on the immutable—or so it seems—Phoenix. "He was just too stubborn to stay dead."

"_**I promised.**_"

"And you delivered. As you had always done. I just wish you hadn't had to pay such high a price for me to realize that."

"_**I hadn't realized peace made you such a big sap. Perhaps I should stay in space. Primus only knows if sappiness is contagious.**_" The black creature—mech, supposeddly, but the spy's not sure if being not-dead categorizes as being living—deadpans, and the High Protector...

Megatron throws his helm back and laughs.

"Now _that_ would be a break for my sanity!" He chuckles after calming a bit, grinning widely and ignoring the flabbergasted looks from everyone else as he turns to the Red Dog. "What do you say, Soundwave? Wouldn't that be a wonderful vacation?"

"Negative. Starscream's absence: More Noble contact."

And Megatron's mirth turns to a disgusted scowl.

"Right. I wouldn't have the excuse to go check on him to get rid of those... _Them_. Slag."

"I think _I_ am the one going crazy." Rattrap lets out in what is supposed to be a whisper, but finds all optics on him as his voice carries in the absence of other noise. "Er... I didn't mean to say that out loud." He squeaks, far softer this time, as he huddles into himself.

"Alright, back to business. Starscream, the situation." Megatron speaks up, serious once more, and, reflexively, everyone stands at attention and listens, optics on the Phoenix.

"_**I took care of two more ships in Omicron 5 three orns ago, but they won't believe it was novas or asteroids this time. That sector is practically a space desert, so devoid of **_**anything**_**it is.**_"

"How long does that give us?" The High Protector asks the Red Dog, and the smaller mech's helm tilts for a moment as he ponders.

"Supposed: Correct data; estimation: two groons."

"Just two fragging months?" The Lieutenant hisses, feathers fluffed out, while the brown-furred Cassette shrugs nonchalantly.

"Meh, we can work with that. Been through worse."

"Very well. Then, let us go inside and debrief them fully." Megatron agrees with a nod, gesturing towards the largest door, and, without another word, the Guardians move to it, opening it with an unseen code.

"So, what are we supposed to be dealing with?" The Miner questions the black-furred Guardian as they start to fill into the still darkened large room, far more curious now that he's cleared his mind of any doubts.

"A race of crazy aliens that call themselves the Vok. They have the bad habit of thinking themselves overlords of the universe, and are not above wiping out whole planets in hissy fits."

Chatter starts up after that, more questions and who knows what else flying about, but Rattrap stops listening, stopping just before the entrance as bright lights start flickering on inside.

The stars shine brightly over the mirroring image of the city below them, and he does nothing to hide the smile blooming on his faceplate.

"Calling it quits already, Rodent?"

He hadn't noticed his companion, but he doesn't do more than widen his smile, not looking away from the sight.

"In your dreams, you blasted slag-spouting saurian. What, _you_ doubting your standing?"

"Oh, no, I know _clearly_ where I'm going to stand, and that will be upwind of you, Vermin. For preference." but he's also smiling when the Minibot looks up, and, regardless of which side of him he is, it doesn't take away the fact that he _is_ standing by his side.

"You keep telling yourself that, Dinobot."

"Just a whiff will be reminder enough, Rattrap."

And, after one last look at their city, their world, their _home_, they turn around and join their new companions, letting the door close at their backs.

* * *

**Author Note:** I think this is the longest chapter of the whole fic... But, well, I'm not going to protest this once: after all, this is The Last Chapter.

Yup, you read that right, this is the end of the story. The Epilogue decided to grow to what you've just read, but, yes, this is it for _Time Paradox_!

So, to clear things up, this is how the Decepticons' original dimension ended up when Starscream, Ravage, Rumble and Ramjet decided to change things to avoid their future becoming the Maximals'/Predacons' one. With that, we have that in Maximal-Predacon timeline (around two-hundred years after the end of the Great War, if memory serves me right), there are no Maximals nor Predacons, but just a united society of Cybertronian. Of course, nothing is ever perfect, and so there are some Decepticon and Autobot descendants with too much ego thanks to their ancestors being who they are, but nothing to the Maximal High Council's and Tri-Predacus Council's extremes.

As for the Unicron thingy... The Decepticons did _not_ have all details about what happened, if you remember, so they couldn't know what would happen nor when nor, consequently, how to avoid it. However, some things _did_ change, as you read. Whether it was for better or worse... *shrug* Only time will tell ;P

I hope you all enjoyed the story, and feel free to tell me about anything you've found. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

On a side note, I will be (finally) drawing all the characters from my fics, which is something that could have come a lot sooner, seeing how many different looks I keep giving them, so keep an eye on my profile for when I post the link to my DA (as soon as I have something to post, 'cause, right now, it's completely empty) if you're interested in that, of course.

Take care, everyone, and I hope to read from you all again!


End file.
